


Coming Home

by di0zapeeRc



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, The exact plot of Homecoming, Yes the chapter headings are from Fall Out Boy's M A N I A, except Peter ends up with Ned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/di0zapeeRc/pseuds/di0zapeeRc
Summary: We all know Spider-Man: HomecomingBut what if I told you we were robbed?PeterxNed are the actual ship. Don't believe me? Read this fic of how exactly Homecoming went that you just remember wrong, because of your biases against non-white, non-tumblr boys or just your simple oversight.Marvel, if you're reading this, this is not a slam at you. I'm available as a screenwriter anytime xx





	1. "a Film by Peter Parker"

“ _New York, Queens. It’s a rough burrow, but, hey, it’s home_ ,” Peter narrates to himself, his phone pointed at the scenery out the car window.

“Who you talkin’ to?” the man in whose care Mr. Stark has placed him, Happy Hogan, asks from the driver’s seat.

He swings himself around to face the front of the car, his phone camera panning with him.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Just making a little video of the trip.”

“You know you can’t show it to anyone?” Happy reminds him.

Peter knows. He’d kill to show Ned. His best friend would flip out. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from Ned. They’ve never had secrets from each other, but Peter guesses this is one of those “it’s safer for him not to know” type deals.

“Y-yeah. I know,” Peter responds.

“Then, why are you narrating in that voice?”

“‘Cause it’s fun.”

“Fine,” Happy drones, slipping on his sunglasses.

Deciding the movie could use some richer context – and since the camera is already pointed at him, anyway – Peter reckons the only way to keep from dying of boredom is to talk to the driver; keep them both occupied.

“So, why do they call you “Happy”?” he asks.

The response he gets is Happy closing the visor between them, leaving Peter filming his own reflection. He pauses the recording for the rest of the monotonous drive, instead putting in his earbuds and texting Ned.

They gave Peter a cover story to tell his aunt and friends, if anyone asks where he’s disappearing off to for the weekend. Mr. Stark called it the “Stark Internship Retreat”. So, when Ned asks him how the retreat is going, Peter says it’s pretty cool and that he’s learning a lot – and he feels rotten the entire time. He sends Ned an ugly selfie and then locks his phone.

 

When they pull up at the Stark Industries airstrip, Peter is just about ready for some action. Instead, he gets more grouchy Happy. They should really have called him Grouchy instead. Peter’s camera is once again recording everything.

“Come on,” he says, popping the trunk. He pulls Peter’s case out and dumps it on the ground. “I’m not carrying your bags. Let’s go.”

“Hey, should I go to the bathroom before?” Peter asks, on Happy’s heels.

“There’s a bathroom on it.”

Once they’re on the plane, Peter can’t help but take a look around. A quick scan of the cockpit has him standing back, impressed.

“Wooooaaaahh. No pilot? That’s awesome!” The entire plane seems fully automated. He wonders what it’d look like taken apart. Probably like art.

He turns back to find Happy has taken a seat. Peter deposits his bag into the hold for carry-on luggage and drops down opposite the handler, his camera pointed at Happy’s frowning face.

“Is that where you’re gonna sit?” he asks.

“Yeah?” Peter feels awkward at this. Where else is he meant to sit? At the back by himself?

Happy stares at him. Well, Peter thinks he’s staring. It’s hard to tell with the dark “Secret Service” type sunglasses.

“Is this your first time on a private plane?” Happy asks.

“My first time on any plane,” Peter admits.

Happy drops his head back against the headrest, sighing exasperatedly. Peter sits uncomfortably on the edge of his seat. The discomfort grows when the plane starts taxiing down the runway, making an odd rattling noise that sets Peter’s teeth on edge. He looks this way and that, hoping the rattling is just a loose seatbelt or something, but nothing is out of place. He suddenly remembers with a pang how this plane has no pilot.

“Should…should it b… Should it be making that noise?” he stammers as Happy gets up.

Instead of an answer, Happy moves to the back of the cabin and takes a seat there. Peter pauses the recording and clings painfully to the armrests of his seat. When the craft finally lifts off the ground, the rattling stops and all Peter hears are the engines, but even those are very quiet. He relaxes when they hit altitude and the plane evens out.

His phone notifies him the plane has Wi-Fi. So, he connects to it and watches _Rick and Morty_ for most of two hours, after which he gets really bored and restless again and decides to explore more of the plane. In the back end, he finds a leisure lounge. Is that a stripper pole? He guesses Mr. Stark had quite a jet-set life before he met Ms. Potts. Peter closes the door lightly and moves back to the cabin. On his way, he finds the bathroom Happy mentioned and decides to pee out of boredom. The damned toilet flushes before Peter has even realized he’s finished. He straightens himself out and steps back into the short hallway, frowning.

Back in the cabin, Happy is snoring like a lawnmower. Peter records again, pointing the camera at himself to make a shushing face at it and then pointing it at Happy. How does he manage to look chronically displeased, even in sleep? Peter doesn’t know whether he should be impressed or worried for the guy. As he leans in to get a closer shot, he loses his footing and falls forward into Happy, waking him. Peter dashes back to his seat at lightning speed – locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket as he goes, leaving Happy to thrash around and yell at basically nothing. Peter feigns mild concern, but Happy looks suspicious, anyway. He wishes he could tell Ned about this. He’d laugh so much. Peter guesses it couldn’t hurt to ‘amend’ the truth a little. He cuts off the snippet of video and texts Ned. As predicted, his friend dies laughing.

When they finally land in Berlin, Peter fires up his camera again to get in some of the foreign scenery. He carries his own bag while Happy weaves them through the overcrowded airport. He has fun flipping between his front-facing and back cameras to show his reactions to certain things, like whacky-looking foreigners and the postcard architecture that looks like CGI until you’re actually there yourself. They walk a ways through the city to get to their hotel and Peter picks up this massive-ass soft pretzel from a street vendor and gets some footage of the locals. Everyone is so nice and friendly – except for Happy, who still looks majorly inconvenienced by everything and everyone.

As they walk into the hotel lobby, Peter decides to narrate a bit again, thinking the sight-seeing footage would be great for a voice-over montage. He waits until after they’ve checked in to start.

“No one’s actually told me _why_ I’m in Berlin,” he says, close to his phone’s microphone, getting in the elevator, “or what I’m doing. Something about…Captain America going crazy–”

“This is you,” Happy interrupts him to say. He points to a door next to the one he’s unlocking.

“Oooh. We’re neighbors?” Peter says excitedly.

“Well, we’re not roommates,” Happy deadpans, stepping into his room. “Suit up.”

Peter pauses recording and lets himself into his room to slip into his suit. He’d been smart enough to put it at the very top of his bag and strips and slips into it in record time. Deciding the movie could do with some Spidey-magic, he finds a mirror to film himself in.

“Okay, Peter. You got this, you got this–”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Peter and the camera swing around to find Happy glaring at him. How did he come in so quietly? This is probably why he’s Mr. Stark’s handler.

“My suit?” Peter offers, looking down at himself and up again through the camera.

“Where’s the case?” Happy asks.

“What case? That’s not my–”

Happy goes to open a door leading off Peter’s room. When it opens, Peter takes an astonished step back before rushing to it.

“What?! I thought that was a closet,” Happy pushes him ahead into the not-closet. “This is still my room,” Peter narrates.

“Go! Please,” Happy says, annoyed.

“My room is waaaayyyy bigger than I–”

“Not now,” Happy says, slapping him on the back to hurry him up.

Peter doesn’t have a chance to stop filming before he sees it. “I found the case. I found the case!” On it is a fancy embossed card. Peter reads aloud: ““A minor upgrade”?” It’s signed “TS”.

Peter undoes the clasp. The entire thing sets up like a high-tech docking station – for the coolest thing Peter has ever seen.

“Woah! Oh my god!” he turns around to look at Happy, eyes wide behind his tragic-in-comparison goggles.

“Put it on,” Happy drones, pointing at the new suit Mr. Stark made.

“What the… The… _This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!_ ” Peter freaks out.

“Let’s go!” Happy says.

“I… Yeah, well, I–I don’t understand. I–Is it for me? Happy?!” Peter calls after the retreating man. “Happy, wait!” He flips the camera back to face him, pulling off his mask as he does this. “This is…insane! Insane! Look at this thing. Look!” he flips the camera back to the suit in the case. “Look at the _eyes_!” he flips the camera back to himself. “This is the greatest day of my life!”

“Let’s go,” Happy says, reappearing at Peter’s shoulder and sounding less annoyed and more amused.

“Yeah, okay!” Peter says, grabbing up the case and following Happy out of the room. He cuts the video again.

Everything happens very fast, then. He’s taken back to the airport, except now it’s empty. He changes into Mr. Stark’s suit in the car, trying to keep his excitement to a dull roar in his head instead of the chipmunks on steroids its trying to be. He slips his phone into a pocket he only finds because he’s looking for it, otherwise it’s totally invisible. As tight-fitting as the suit is, it seems to have endless room. Mr. Stark is clearly every bit as genius as his reputation dictates. Happy drops him off and then gets out of there to safety, telling him a rushed good luck through the driver’s side window as he speeds away.

Peter finds Mr. Stark in the hangar Happy pointed out before he left. He’s already in the Iron-Man suit. Everything is so tense and loaded and Peter is actually a little scared. He walks in, mask in hand, and looks up at Mr. Stark with wide eyes.

“You look good. It suits you, if you’ll pardon the pun. Anyway, you wait here. I’m opening that door,” Mr. Stark points at the back “wall”, which Peter now notices is actually a huge, metal, sliding door, “and then you wait here for my signal. Got it?”

Peter’s head is spinning too much to say anything, so he just nods and pulls the mask over his face.

“If you end up fighting Cap, he’s going to try to be reasonable first. He’ll say something like “There’s a lot going on here that you don’t understand”. Ignore him. He’s wrong and he thinks he’s right – and that makes him dangerous. Oh, and keep an eye out for his legs. He’s tall and that shield of his doesn’t cover everything. Lastly, be careful, kid. Please?” Mr. Stark says, his own mask now in place.

“You, too, sir.”

Peter hides himself behind a stack of crates as Mr. Stark goes for the door, inconspicuous, but with a good enough view of the tarmac. He watches as the heroes all approach one another, his chest expanding with how star struck he is. Then, he remembers the movie he’s making and pulls out his phone to aim it at the scene in front of him.

“Okay, there’s Captain America,” he narrates, “Iron-Man, Black Widow… Wooooaahhh… Who’s that new guy?” There’s a dude in a skintight, black suit with what looks like _cat ears_?

Distantly, Mr. Stark calls, “ _UNDEROOS!_ ”

“Oh, that’s me!” he looks at the camera. “I gotta go! I gotta go!”

He puts the camera down with the clear view of the tarmac, takes a small run-up and flips over Captain America’s head, shooting webs at his shield and taking it with him to his perch on top of a nearby buggy.

“Hey, everybody,” he says.

The ensuing fight is crazy to say the least. He’s fought people before, but these people are serious players. Especially Cap. Peter has never fought someone so intense before in his life. Just when he thinks he has one over on the old man, Cap drops a cargo-loader on him. Then, he’s only occupied with not being crushed.

“You got heart, kid. Where you from?” Cap asks him.

“Queens,” he groans.

Cap smiles to himself. “Brooklyn.”

When Peter finally gets himself out from under the loader, he dashes to grab his phone, which is miraculously safe, even though the hangar is wasted. He dashes out of the way of the Vision (?) crashing backwards into what once housed a small airplane and a bunch of munitions crates, but is now only rubble. He holes up behind a transistor container and flips the screen so he’s filming through the front camera.

“Okay, so, the craziest thing just happened, right? I was in a fight with Captain America and I stole his shield and I threw it at him and I–” he cuts himself off when something on the screen catches his eye. Over his shoulder, he sees one of Cap’s people are massive now. “The hell? He’s big now. I gotta go. Hang on!” He flips away to help War Machine.

The camera shows War Machine being flung through the air.

 

When Peter fully comes to, he’s back at the hotel, in his bed. He feels like he got run over by a freight train, backed up over, and run over again. Dragging himself out of bed, he goes for a shower. On the way, he checks his phone – which someone had kindly placed on charge for him. Ten messages from Ned and twenty-two from Aunt May.

“Hey, man. I’m good. The Retreat has been super…” he pauses on word choice there, wondering how to possibly even begin to describe that fight, “…enlightening. Learning a lot. Miss you. See you soon.” He copies and pastes the same message to his aunt, changing “man” to “May”, hits send, tosses his phone onto the bed and drowns himself in expensive hotel soap and hot water.

When he gets out, he feels much less like roadkill and much more like he hasn’t eaten in two weeks. He wonders if he’s allowed to order room service. Instead of getting in trouble with Happy or Mr. Stark, he decides to tape an account of the fight before he forgets everything. So, he grabs up his phone again, finds the video he’s taken so far and adds to it.

It all comes back to him, then. Like, he knows how dangerous everything was and that he easily could’ve died, but he cannot believe that this is life. Him, a nerd from Queens, New York City. He could scream in excitement.

“It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened. So, Mr. Stark was like “Hey, Underoos!” and I just sort of flipped in and I stole Cap’s shield and I was like “Hey, what’s up everybody?” and the–”

There’s a knock at the door behind him.

“Hey! Just a second! Coming!” he sets the camera down and back flips over the bed, just as the door opens.

Happy comes in in a hotel robe. He gives Peter the same exasperated look he’s been giving him since they met.

“Hey!” Peter says, jovially.

“We have thin walls here,” Happy drones.

Peter nods and apologizes, looking sorry for good measure. Happy sighs deeply and leaves again. Peter dashes back to his phone to continue the story.

 

Too quickly, the weekend in Germany ends. Mr. Stark had joined him for breakfast at the hotel that morning. They’d talked about everything, but focused mainly on Peter’s performance. Mr. Stark had said he thinks Peter has real star-potential.

“Woah. Really?” he’d asked, awed.

“You did so good, kid. I’m just sorry you had to.”

He’d looked lost and far off, then. Peter had decided not to ask him about it.

Mr. Stark had done a full medical check on Peter, astounded by how fast he healed. They’d spent a minute talking about Peter’s abilities and about the spider that bit him and then he’d looked truly impressed when Peter had given him the full low-down on his webbing formula. Peter hadn’t been able to stop smiling the entire time. Here he was, impressing Tony Stark with something – the biggest genius in the world hanging on Peter’s every word and asking him questions. It couldn’t get better than that.

Mostly, he missed his aunt and he missed Ned. He ached knowing he couldn’t tell Ned anything. Being happy by yourself is no fun. Besides, Ned always just gets so… Peter reckons the right word would be “delighted”. He gets so genuinely happy for Peter. It’s his favorite thing about Ned – how he can be fully there for Peter in any moment. Like when Peter scored a perfect 100 for his math entrance exam into Midtown. It’d never happened in the history of the school that anyone got a perfect grade on the entrance exam, let alone math. Ned had called his mom and they’d taken Peter out that night to celebrate, Aunt May included. It’s still one of his fondest memories.

When they finally roll into Queens, he feels like he’s been gone a month. He’d gotten some pretty nighttime footage of the city as they drove back. Mr. Stark had been on the phone the entire time, yelling and being yelled at. He looks tired and drawn and suddenly old. To Peter, he looks like he needs a hug, but Happy would probably forcibly remove Peter for trying a move like that.

Mr. Stark grabs Peter’s phone and lifts it up a little to get himself in the frame.

“What’re you doing? A little video diary?” he asks, smirking at Peter.

“Yeah,” Peter says, nervously.

“It’s okay,” Mr. Stark says. “I’d probably do the same thing.”

“I told him not to do it,” Happy talks over the other man. “He was filming everything. I’m gonna wipe the chip.”

“No, okay. Hey, hey, hey. You know what? We should actually… we should make an alibi video for your aunt, anyway,” Mr. Stark suggests. “You ready?”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Peter agrees.

“Here, get in the frame,” Mr. Stark says, gesturing.

“Okay.” Peter pulls the camera out so they’re both in the frame and then leans into Mr. Stark a little.

“Hey, May,” he says. “How you doing? What are you wearing? Something skimpy, I hope.”

Peter makes a face that looks kind of comical on his phone screen, which makes Mr. Stark crack up.

“Forget it. That’s inappropriate,” he says, touching Peter’s shoulder to get his attention. “Alright, let’s start over. You can edit it.”

“Mm-hm.”

They get back into position.

“3, 2, 1. Hey, May! My gosh, I wanted to tell you what an incredible job your nephew did this weekend at the Stark Internship Retreat,” Mr. Stark delivers.

Peter nods excitedly for good measure.

“Everyone was impressed,” he continues.

The car horn cuts him off, along with Happy going: “Come on! It’s a fricking merge, sorry.”

“This is ‘cause you’re not on Queens Boulevard,” Mr. Stark says, turning back to the camera. “See, Happy is-is hoping to get bumped up to Asset Management. He was Head of Security, and before that he was just a driver.”

Happy swings around and so Peter turns the camera to him.

“That was a private conversation,” he says, checking traffic, and then turning back. “I don’t like joking about this. It was hard for me to talk to you about.”

“No, seriously, was he snoring a bunch–”

“Alright.” Happy cuts him off again by stopping outside Peter’s building. “Here we go. Here we are. Whoops.” He’d stomped on the breaks a little hard.

Mr. Stark is laughing again. Peter turns the camera away, catching himself accidentally.

“Happy, can you give us a moment?” Mr. Stark asks.

“You want me to leave the car?”

“Why don’t you grab Peter’s case out of the trunk?”

Happy gets out, grumbling to himself. Peter turns the camera to face Mr. Stark and he gives it a TV smile. Peter smiles, too, but nervously. He feels like something big is coming. Another ‘retreat’, maybe?

“Kid, after this weekend, I think you’ve earned that suit,” Mr. Stark announces.

Peter drops the camera entirely, then.

“I can keep the suit?”

“Yes. We were just talking about it,” the older man says, gesturing with his glasses before cleaning them. He puts them back on and clears his throat. “Do me a favor, though? Happy’s kinda your point-guy on this. Don’t stress him out. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ve seen his cardiogram. Alright?”

Peter is still taking everything in when Mr. Stark finishes, but gives him a resounding, “Yes.”

“Don’t do anything I _would_ do. And definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Peter frowns at this, feeling about as confused as Flash in Physics.

“There’s a…” Mr. Stark makes a space with his thumb and forefinger. “There’s a little grey area there, and that’s where you operate.”

“What, does that mean I’m an avenge–”

“No,” Mr. Stark stops him dead.

A knock at Peter’s window has him swinging around. It’s Happy, holding up the case and asking if it’s the right one.

“Seventh floor!” Mr. Stark calls back.

“I can take that up. You don’t have to take it,” Peter says, knowing the thing is probably heavy and it is a ton of stairs.

“You gonna take it?” Happy verifies.

“Y-yeah! I can take that!”

“Thank you,” Happy looks relieved as he sets the case down.

Peter turns back to Mr. Stark as a question dawns on him. “So… So, uh, when’s our next ‘retreat’? you know? Like…” he traces the quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

“What? Next mission?” Mr. Stark says.

“Yeah. Yeah, the mission. The missions,” Peter says, seriously.

“We’ll call you.”

“Well, do you have my number…?”

“No, I meant _we’ll_ call _you_. Like, _someone_ will call you,” Mr. Stark says.

“Oh,” Peter nods, still confused, but not pushing it.

“Alright?”

“Someone…from the team…”

Mr. Stark leans forward, into Peter’s space. Peter puts an arm around the other man. He smells really good.

“That’s not a hug. I’m just grabbing the door for you,” Mr. Stark says, pushing the car door open behind Peter. “We’re not there yet.”

Instead of letting the ensuing silence stretch into awkwardness, Peter gets out.

“Bye!” Mr. Stark calls.

Peter barely has a handle on the case when Happy speeds them off and away, leaving him on the sidewalk. He watches them go, smiling to himself.

“They’re gonna call me.”

 

Ned is sitting in his desk chair at his computer when his phone rings. He’d been trying to hack Youtube’s source code to make all videos downloadable off-app. Data charges for video streaming are ridiculous. He pulls off his headset and answers, putting the call on speaker.

“The legend himself, Peter Parker,” Ned says in greeting.

“Hey, man,” Peter says. Ned can hear him smiling. “How have you been? How was your weekend?”

“Standard. I think Youtube’s onto me. The source code changed again, but super specifically. I feel like at this point I should just make an app that can download regardless of copyright infringement and make it open-serve… You don’t care about this. How the hell was your weekend with _Tony Freaking Stark_?”

“No, no! It’s nice just hearing you talk. This weekend was so crazy… I need some familiarity.” Peter sounds far-off. Ned guesses that maybe all the new and all the future-talk probably scared Peter a little. It would’ve scared him. “It was cool. Like, really cool, but crazy. I can’t really talk too much about it. A lot of stuff is happening that Mr. Stark isn’t ready to share with the public just yet.”

On Peter’s end, Ned hears heavy traffic and wind. Is Peter outside? His side of Queens usually isn’t that busy this late. Ned shakes himself.

“Understandable. I’m just so psyched for you, dude. Tony Stark knows you exist! I’d be way more freaked out if I were you. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you applied for this.” He takes a sip of his hot chocolate, savoring the creamy sweetness.

“I didn’t apply. It was a random thing. A bunch of people were entered randomly into a system that evaluated us based on certain merits and a group was chosen – and I won the Internship this weekend,” Peter announces.

Ned chokes.

Coughing, eyes streaming, voice hoarse, he says, “And you withheld this _because_?”

“Dramatic effect?” Peter offers. There’s a thud down the line and the sound of Peter cussing.

Ned gets himself under control before he talks again. His throat burns a little from the coughing.

“Well, congratulations! I officially want to be you. Are you going to be in school tomorrow, or have you transcended past such mundanity?” Ned asks melodramatically.

“Might swing by, I don’t know. See how you peasants are doing,” Peter jokes.

“I look forward to it, Mr. Parker.”

They both chuckle.

“Goodnight, buddy,” Peter says, quietly.

“Goodnight, Peter.”


	2. “I hope the roof flies off and we get blown out into space.”

Ned sits in the passenger seat of his mom’s car, staring at his Lego Darth Vader and smiling to himself. He can’t wait to get to school and show Peter. Maybe Peter will finally make some time for the two of them to hang out.

It’s been two months since Peter got the internship and Ned has only seen him at school. His afternoons are fully booked every day of the week, save for Sundays when Ned isn’t allowed out, anyway. He misses his best friend so much. Even when they hang out at school, Peter seems distracted, preoccupied, like he’d rather be anywhere else. Ned is really starting to wonder whether Peter hasn’t maybe met someone cooler at the internship, but is just feeling too bad about to tell him. He doesn’t really know what he’d do if he lost Peter.

Peter is his only friend – and Ned is in love with him. It’s not even weird to think anymore. This has been a fact of their relationship for as long as Ned can remember. Peter is his best friend, the focal point of his life outside his family, and Ned is in love with him. He daydreams what it’d be like to date Peter sometimes. When Flash picks on Peter and calls him scrawny or ugly, it makes Ned want to get violent, which is something he most definitely is not normally. He sometimes envisions what he’d say to people who asked him why he loved Peter: his bright, intelligent eyes; his chocolate brown hair that curls in contact with humidity; his heartbreakingly perfect smile; lately, also how cut he’s gotten. Ned doesn’t know when Peter finds the time to go to the gym – if he does – but Peter is _in shape_. He blushes a little, thinking this.

“Bye, Mom!” he calls through the window, rushing inside.

“Edward, you kiss your mother!” she calls.

He turns back, heads around to her side of the car and kisses her cheek through the open window.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you, too.”

He rushes up the steps, almost tripping near the top. Off to the side, Flash and two other guys laugh at him. His crush-blush turns into hot humiliation. Ducking inside, he manages to disappear into the crowd nicely. Screw Flash and his B.S.

Peter is at his locker, a gaggle of cheerleaders next to him. He looks absorbed by his locker combination. He also looks so good in the close-fitting sweater he’s wearing. Ned decides to surprise him.

He puts Lego Vader on Peter’s shoulder, puts on a supervillain voice and says, “Join me, and together we’ll build my new Lego Death Star.”

“What?!” Peter exclaims, swinging around.

“So lame,” one of the cheerleaders comments.

Peter glares at her.

“No way! That’s awesome! How many pieces?” he asks.

“3803,” Ned says.

“That’s insane,” Peter assesses, stuffing the books from his locker into his bag.

“I know!” Ned gushes. “You, uh, you wanna build it tonight?”

They start heading down the hall to class. For a school as elite as Midtown Science and Tech, the halls are surprisingly always packed, making Ned wonder if maybe the bar was raised for their year of application. Figures.

“I can’t tonight. I got the St–”

“Stark Internship,” Ned finishes for him. “Yeah. Always got that internship.”

Peter scratches behind his ear. “Yeah, well, hopefully soon it’ll lead to a real job with him.” He gives Ned those big, doe-brown eyes of his, like he’s begging for forgiveness.

“That would be so sweet,” Ned relents.

“Right?”

“He’d be all “Good job on those spreadsheets, Peter. Here’s a gold coin”.”

Peter gives him a weird look.

“I don’t know how jobs work,” Ned admits.

“That’s exactly how they work,” Peter says.

“Oh,” Ned smiles.

Peter smiles at Ned smiling.

“I’ll knock out the basic bones of the Death Star at my place, and then I’ll come by afterwards, because for the most part the difficult part will just be the base of it…” but Peter’s stopped listening.

Down the hall is Liz Allan, looking at Peter like he’s the only person in the world. Peter is at a complete standstill. Ned watches everything with a little embarrassment, feeling for all intents and purposes like he could stuff his head inside his backpack and scream forever. It’s not fair. Not that Ned believed he ever stood a chance, but at least he never had to share Peter with anyone before Liz. Peter and Liz have been making eyes at each other since the start of the school year. Why they don’t just put themselves out of their misery and get together is beyond Ned.

Peter, however, is dealing with far different emotions. Liz has been making eyes at him since the start of the year. He only realized that lately, though, and now he can’t help but feel paralyzed whenever she looks at him. He honestly doesn’t understand how the prettiest girl in the whole school could ever have a thing for him. It’s flattering – and she’s super hot – but Peter isn’t into her that way. Never has been. Insane, he knows. He used to wonder what the hell is wrong with him. It’s not like he isn’t into girls, because he absolutely is. He just isn’t into _Liz_. He needs to have his head shrunk.

“That’d be great,” he absently says to Ned.

The bell rings.

 

Peter has Physics first period. What demon decided this is okay better hope it never runs into Spider-Man, because Peter would total it.

“Okay. So, how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?” Ms. Warren asks. “Flash?”

“It’s the product of sin of the angle and gravity divided by the mass,” he offers.

“Nope. Peter!” the teacher calls.

Peter sits up like he got an electric shock, eyes riveted to the teacher's in case she decides to come back there and find how he is not at all focusing on school. Sadly, he’s watching his greatest hits on Youtube. Washed up at fifteen. Peter feels sorry for himself.

“You still with us?” Ms. Warren asks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” he says, shutting his laptop. His eyes fall on the diagram behind her on the board. “Uh, mass cancels out. So, it’s just gravity times sin.”

“Right. See, Flash? Being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong,” the teacher says, eyeing the other boy, who turns to Peter as soon as her back is turned.

“You’re dead,” he mouths.

Peter’s heart jumps in his throat. It’s an ages old reaction to the bully. Sure, Peter could totally take him now, but it’s like he said to Mr. Stark when he came to recruit Peter for the fight in Berlin: he couldn’t take Flash before, so he shouldn’t now. He turns to check the time, wishing the school day away. He’s already aching to get back out there and fly through the city. It’s the only place he feels free anymore.

In chemistry, he pulls out his notes on his web fluid. He’s been working on an even stronger formula. Maybe to make it a little stickier and a little more stretchy, but also stronger. The ideal would be to have it strong enough to take the same blows he can, but he’d need more than a school chemistry set to make that happen and he can’t afford that. So, he makes do. The version he has worked out now, though, tests well. He’s excited to take it out for a spin.

Lunch rolls around and he dashes to meet up with Ned at their usual table. Ned’s already gotten them food. He smiles when he sees Peter, prompting Peter to smile back. Peter slides in next to him.

They talk about nothing for a while, exchanging updates on classes and then trading opinions on Flash.

“He threatened me again today. It’s honestly not my fault he bought himself into a school the rest of us had to work for,” Peter says, opening his chocolate milk.

“I guess every school has to have the token rich moron,” Ned says.

Peter nods, laughing. Ned stares at something ahead of him and so Peter follows his line of sight – to Liz. She’s on a step ladder, hanging a homecoming banner. As she ties it to the wall, she notices Peter looking and smiles at him again. He pours chocolate milk on himself.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Ned asks.

“You guys are losers,” a voice pipes up to their right.

Their heads turn in unison to Michelle Jones sitting at the end of their table with her signature stack of books. She’s glaring at them like she can’t believe stupider people than them could ever exist.

“Well, then, why do you sit with us?” Ned asks her.

“‘Cause I don’t have any friends,” she deadpans.

The bell cuts Ned off.

On their way to decathlon training, Peter begins to think that maybe he needs to let go of this, too. He’s already quit band and robotics lab. He just feels like he should be out there doing his thing instead of wasting his time on extracurriculars. It’s not like he’s really gaining anything from decathlon. He doesn’t even study before meets anymore. Speaking of, these meets also take him out of town a lot – and he doesn’t think he can really afford not to be here. What if Mr. Stark needs him? Or the city needs him? He almost asks Ned what he thinks, but stops himself just in time. However, Ned did notice him looking his way, so Peter knocks their shoulders together and smiles at him.

All three of them – Ned, Peter and Michelle – take seats in the auditorium at Liz, their captain’s, request. She tells them all the big decathlon is in Washington this year and that’s what they’ll be prepping for from now on. So, she needs everyone to bring their A-game. Peter makes a face and decides it’s now or never. So, when the rest go take their places on the stage to practice, Peter walks over to Mr. Harrington.

“Peter, it’s nationals. Is there no way you can take one _weekend_ off?” Mr. Harrington asks.

“I can’t go to Washington, because if Mr. Stark needs me, then I have to make sure that I am here,” Peter explains.

Flash chooses this moment to interject with more of his self-necessitated nuggets of wisdom: “You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Cindy asks from onstage, looking worriedly from Mr. Harrington to Peter.

“Peter’s not going to Washington,” Bluebird informs, looking up from color-coding her day-planner.

“No, n-n-n-n-n-n-no. No,” Cindy says.

“Why not?” Abraham asks, next to her.

“Really? Right before Nationals?” Liz looks put-off.

“He already quit marching band and robotics lab,” Michelle looks up from her book to say. Everyone turns to stare at her, including Peter. “I’m not obsessed with him,” she deflects. “Just very observant.”

“Flash, you’re in for Peter,” Liz says, unceremoniously. Though, she does look a little stiffer in her movements.

Peter decides he doesn’t care.

“Oof, I don’t know. I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Black Widow coming up,” Flash mocks.

Peter rolls his eyes.

Onstage, one of the answering bells sound.

“That is false,” Abraham responds.

Peter turns to check the time on the clock behind him.

“What’d I tell you about using the bell for comedic purposes?” Mr. Harrington reprimands, but halfheartedly.

Free period is almost over. Then, it’s one more period before freedom. Peter is itching, as he always is, to get out there. Which means he pays next to no attention in math last period. As soon as the bell sounds, he’s out of there, throwing a quick goodbye to Ned as he runs down the hall.

One good jump scales the gate and he’s out into the street and back on the bus to Queens. It’s crowded, as usual, and he ends up next to a blind lady with a service dog that smells like week-old tuna. He knows she can’t see him, but he still doesn’t plug his nose, choosing instead to look the other way. The bus is always too slow, even before all this. Everything in New York moves to slowly for Peter. He guesses it’s because he’s gotten used to flying above it all. His muscles start aching with anticipation.

He jogs from the bus-stop to his favorite sandwich shop, greeting the one shop clerk as he passes him. Mr. Delmar, the owner of the bodega, is behind his counter as usual. He leans with his forearms on the counter when Peter greets him.

“What’s up, Mr. Delmar?” Peter says, taking two packs of gummy worms off the string on the wall.

“Heeeyyy, Mr. Parker.”

He puts the candy down in front of the man.

“Number five, right?” Mr. Delmar verifies.

“Yeah, um, and, uuuhh, with pickles, and can you smoosh it down real flat? Thanks,” he requests.

“You got it, boss,” the cook says.

Mr. Delmar grins at Peter. “How’s your aunt?”

Peter crosses his arms absently. He nods as he answers, “Yeah. She’s alright.” He breaks eye-contact with the older man, really not in the mood for more lewd comments about May. It’s gross and uncalled for and he wishes he didn’t have to know them all.

“She’s this really hot Italian woman,” Mr. Delmar says, in Spanish, to the cook. He looks at Peter cockily.

“So, how’s your daughter?” Peter hits back, also in Spanish, sticking his tongue out in a flirty way.

The cook makes an amused sound.

“No way,” Mr. Delmar says, still in Spanish. He reverts back to English when he says, “Ten dollars.”

“It’s five dollars,” Peter says, pointing up at the menu.

“For that comment, ten dollars,” Mr. Delmar says, all seriousness.

This is what Peter means. All these comments about his aunt are supposed to be okay and okay with him, but if he so much as jokes back, he’s crossed some line. May is a person. This isn’t fair.

“Hey, c’mon, I’m joking. I’m joking!” Peter plays off. He pulls the five out of his wallet and hands it to the shop-owner. “Here’s five dollars.”

While Mr. Delmar rings up his candy and his sandwich, Peter goes to greet Murph, the bodega’s cat. The animal is lazing, as usual, on the countertop near the back wall where he can see everything and hiss at unsuspecting kids.

“So, how’s school?” the bodega owner asks, handing Peter his candy.

“Oh, you know? It’s boring. Got better things to do,” Peter says, making a face.

“Stay in school, kid. Stay in school – otherwise you’re gonna end up like me,” Mr. Delmar gestures emphatically at his shop.

“This is great,” Peter says.

“Best sandwiches in Queens,” Mr. Delmar says.

Peter takes his sandwich and then makes a break for it – for the nearest alleyway. He makes sure no one sees him as he ducks inside and starts stripping. One shoe and then the other is tossed down to the back. Next goes his jeans and then his shirt and sweater. The suit is super baggy as he slips it on, grabs up his sandwich in one hand and the mask in the other. He webs his backpack to a dumpster as he slips on his mask. Hitting the compression pad, the suit fits itself snuggly to his frame. A small button on the palm of his right hand activates it – and then they’re in business.

He flings himself up the side of a building, scaling it in one jump. The exertion feels so good that he does two more jumps to warm himself up.

“Ugh, finally,” he says, coming to stand on the edge of that building, but on the street-side.

His sandwich goes down nicely and is basically gone in two bites. He keeps the gummy worms in a breast pocket for later. Swinging through the city is as much like coming home as Star Wars with Ned on Christmas Eve. He wishes he could’ve been at Ned’s right now, hammering out the Death Star, but Peter knows he’d go crazy if he didn’t do this every day. This is where he belongs: helping people and doing what he can with what he’s been given. It’s the ‘heroic’ thing to do, right?

As he comes hurtling around a bank, he sees some guy cutting a bicycle chain with a pair of wire cutters. He sets after him, outpacing him easily in the air. Landing right in the middle of the sidewalk, he cuts the guy off.

He gets a hold on the bike’s handlebars. “Hey, could you hold this for a second?” he says to the guy, holding out a strand of his webbing and then webbing the end to the guy’s chest. The guy gets yanked off the bike and into the air. “Thanks.” He makes sure the thief can’t actually fall to his death, before going in search of the owner of the bike. When no one answers – and after some guy mistakes him for a beggar – Peter asks the passersby if anyone has a pen. Quickly he writes a note that says: “IS THIS YOUR BIKE? IF NOT, DON’T STEAL IT! SPIDER-MAN”. He leaves it on the handlebars and leans the bike against the wall.

Next, he swings by the train station, checking on everybody waiting on the platform. He steals a ride on top of one of the trains, checking his Twitter feed and having some gummy worms. The train takes him into uptown Queens. He hops off before they pull into the station, swinging down the main street. Takes a perch on a building that appears to split the street in half, he has a little moment by himself rising up to full height in front of the American flag.

“HEY!” someone screams from the street. It’s a guy buying coffee. Behind him, some dude is holding an actual boombox. What an aesthetic, Peter thinks. “YOU’RE THAT SPIDER-GUY ON YOUTUBE, RIGHT?”

“CALL ME SPIDER-MAN!” Peter calls back.

“OKAY, SPIDER-MAN. DO A FLIP!”

Peter does a backflip, throwing his arms out at the end in a “how did I do?” gesture.

“YEAH!” the guy cheers.

“Proud fan!” boombox-guy yells.

Peter flips away and deeper into the city, smiling to himself.

Below him, on a street corner, Peter sees a little old lady looking lost as hell. He drops down to help her.

“Hello, Ma’am. You look lost?”

She looks apprehensive at first, but he puts her at ease with a joke about how he wears the mask to hide his hideous face. She replies that someone as sweet as him couldn’t possibly be ugly. The mask keeps her from seeing him blush. Turns out, she just needed directions. So, he helped her out. In return, she bought him a churro at a street vendor nearby. What a sweetheart. Peter leaves with a full heart.

Finding everything relatively quiet, he hangs out on another rooftop. He strings a strand of webbing from the building to a water-tower and then practices his balance and also the strength of the webbing – and also how long exactly it takes to dissolve. His balance is still excellent, the webbing is still insanely strong, and it takes about two hours to dissolve.

On his way back to his neck of the woods, he spots a car-robbery in progress. Someone is trying to jimmy the door open with a crowbar.

“Hey, buddy,” Peter webs them in the face and yanks forward, slamming their head into the car. The car alarm goes off. Peter flips himself over the person. “You shouldn’t steal cars. It’s bad.”

“It’s my car, dumbass!” the person yells back.

“Hey! Shut that off!” someone yells from a window. An angry lady.

“I was just trying to–” but the person whose car it is yells over Peter and the noise drowns his explanation out.

Then, everybody comes out to yell at him. How was he supposed to know it was the person’s car? They were trying to break in!

Peter gets out of there. He takes the long way home, watching the sunset from different angles. At some point, he misjudges and his web doesn’t connect before he swings – which results in an epic faceplant. He’s fine, but it does throw him a little. He runs a bit before attempting to swing again. He eventually decides to chill and eat his churro on the fire escape of a building with a view of the train bridge. Everything is bathed in gold from the sun’s dying light. It’s peaceful – albeit it kind of boring.

Two months since Berlin. TWO MONTHS – and not a single call from Mr. Stark or Happy. He feels like he’s being frozen out. He’s Spider-Man, for goodness’ sake! He’s had two months to fully come into his own and learn from that big fight. He’s ready for more responsibility. He’s ready to take on bigger things. Why can’t anyone see that? Mr. Stark was all impressed with him – impressed enough to give him this suit – but now it’s like he’s forgotten Peter even exists. As good as it is being Spider-Man, he really wants more now. He could take Captain America and the Winter Soldier and the Falcon, so surely he could take some second-rate bad guy with a half-baked plan? Peter calls Happy like he does every night.

As always, he gets voicemail.

“Hey, Happy! Here’s my report for tonight: I stopped a grand theft bicycle. Couldn’t find the owner, so I just left a note,” he takes a bite of his churro before continuing. “Um, I helped this lost, old Dominican lady. She was really nice and bought me a churro. I’m just, um… I feel like I could be doing more. You know, just curious when our next real mission is going to be.” Peter sighs. “So, yeah, so just call me back. It’s Peter. Parker.” He ends the call.

Staring off into the distance, he feels like kicking himself. He sighs again. “Why would I tell him about the churro?”

The suit notifies him that his one web-shooter is empty, so he pops out the cartridge, but it goes wide and almost falls all the way down the street. He catches it just in time, standing on the side of the fire escape, parallel to the street below. Lucky, this, he thinks. He could’ve easily been pavement splatter if it weren’t for his powers. As he stands there, though, he catches sight of a suspicious looking group with duffle bags heading into an ATM hub.

“Finally. Something good.”

He goes closer to investigate.

It’s as he thought: they’re trying to rob the place. They seem to be sawing through the ATM, but Peter can’t tell with what. It must be something new, though, because the steel the machinery is cased in is meant to be impenetrable. He lets himself in after them and awkwardly does a nonchalant-looking lean against the doorframe. He clears his throat.

“’Tsup, guys. Forget your pin number?” Peter asks. The all turn on him, wearing crude, cartoonish Avengers masks. “Woooooaaaaaahhh. You’re the avengers! What’re you guys doing here?” To himself, he thinks, “Still not recruiting me”.

Instead of waiting for a response, he webs a gun out of ‘Iron-Man’s’ hands. He yanks the gun back and around, knocking them all in the face with it. ‘Thor’ comes at him next. He blocks the hit and shoves it backwards, making ‘Thor’ fall into ‘the Hulk’.

“Thor, Hulk,” Peter quips. “Good to finally meet you guys.” He jumps to the ceiling and kicks forward with his legs, getting his feet on ‘Thor’s’ chest and throwing him into the wall behind Peter. That momentum he uses to throw his own body up to hang from the ceiling upside down. He glances back at ‘Thor’. “I thought you’d be more handsome in person.”

Then, ‘Iron-Man’ is back to taking swings at him. Peter dodges him easily, saying, “Iron-Man! Hey, what’re you doing robbing a bank? You’re a billionaire.” He stops the guy’s fist mid-swing and throws him backwards, into ‘the Hulk’.

Out of nowhere, this kooky contraption is being lifted at Peter. He vaults himself from the ceiling, at the armed guy (‘Captain America’) – but he never gets that far. He’s suspended in mid-air. Also, his skin feels like its rippling with the unseen force keeping him in place. His organs feel like they’re free-floating.

“Woah. This feels so weird!” Peter says, his voice coming out warped.

‘Cap’ shoves forward with that thing and it flings Peter backwards, into the wall.

“What is that thing?” Peter asks, picking himself up as he’s being advanced on again. He doesn’t get a response, but he does get hit with it again. ‘Cap’ uses it to slam Peter into the ceiling and the floor alternatively. “I’m starting,” slam, “to think,” slam, “you’re not,” slam, “the avengers!” slam.

In a lucky moment, he manages to get a web out on the pamphlet holder across the room and pull it forwards into the guy with the anti-grav gun thing. He gets knocked off his feet, giving Peter a chance to flip away. He ends up at the ceiling again, against the glass outer wall, webbing up these idiots. There’s money everywhere. He gets one of them in the face and yanks him forward, into Peter’s foot. Peter kicks off, landing with his back against the ATM there. ‘Thor’ makes a pass at him, so Peter roundhouse kicks him right in the face. “Okay. Let’s wrap this up, guys. It’s a school night.”

‘Iron-man’ holds up the anti-grav thing again, but Peter webs him and that thing to the window. He flings himself at the guy, landing half on him and half on the window. He pulls at the mask, trying to get a look at the thief’s face. “So, how do jerks like you get tech like this?”

A high-pitched whine grabs Peter’s attention. It comes from this kind of ray-gun that the douche in the ‘Hulk’ mask is pointing at him.

“No, no! Wait, wait!” Peter cries, getting out of the way with ‘Iron-Man’.

The kickback of the gun topples ‘Hulk’ off his feet and the beam goes wide, through the ceiling, and circles back down. It goes straight through the glass wall and right into the building opposite: Mr. Delmar’s bodega.

Peter has never run so fast in his life. He vaults himself into the burning building, calling for Mr. Delmar. He finds the shop keep in the back of store, cowering and coughing. Peter slings Mr. Delmar’s arm over his shoulders and helps him outside. On the way, he hears a panicked yowling. Murphy, the cat, is stuck behind some of the debris. Peter leans Mr. Delmar against the counter while he moves the rubble out of the way and picks up the scared animal.

Outside, the traffic light near the ATM crashes to the ground.

“Oh, come on,” Peter protests. In the distance, he hears police sirens. He turns back to Mr. Delmar, panicked now. The cops can’t catch him here. “I gotta g–”

“ _Meowww. Meow…_ ”

Peter is still holding Murph. He hands the cat off to Mr. Delmar. “Here. Here.” Then, he gets the heck outta dodge. By the time the police arrive at the scene, Peter is long gone.

When he’s put about a block of distance between himself and them, he tries Happy again. He gets him this time.

“Happy, the craziest thing just happened to me!” Peter gets right into it. “These guys were robbing an ATM with these high-tech weapons an–”

“Hey, hey. Take a breath. I don’t have time for ATM…”

“Yeah, but…”

“…robberies, or the thoughtful notes you leave behind. I have moving day to worry about. Everything’s gotta be outta here by next week,” Happy finishes.

“Wait, wait. You’re moving? Who’s moving?” Peter asks, entirely sidetracked.

“Don’t you watch the news? Tony sold Avengers Tower. We’re relocating to a new facility upstate where, hopefully, the cell service is much worse,” Happy explains.

Peter frowns.

“But what about me?” he asks.

“What about you?”

He jumps onto the top of a streetlight. “Well, what if Mr. Stark needs me or something? Or, I don’t know, something big goes down?” he slides back off, because this thing is actually pretty hot and his butt is burning from sitting on it. “Look, can I _please_ just talk to Mr. Stark?”

“No, just stay away from anything too dangerous. I’m responsible for making sure you’re responsible. Okay?” Happy says.

Peter’s comes up on the building on the one side of the alley where he left his stuff earlier. He pulls off his mask and jumps down.

“I _am_ responsible! I– Oh, crap. My backpack’s gone.”

“That doesn’t sound responsible,” Happy says. Peter can hear him frowning. He wants to punch himself in the face.

“I’ll call you back,” Peter says, going in search of his clothes.

“Feel free not to.”

 

The Uber driver asks Ned a lot about his Death Star on the drive to Peter’s. A super friendly girl making some spending money for college. She’s a fine arts major at NYU. Ned thinks that’s awesome. Turns out, she’s also a massive Star Wars fan. So, they have fun talking. Ned takes note of her name for future use and gives her a decent tip when he pays. She calls him an angel and tells him to have fun. She asks who he’s visiting, if it’s his girlfriend.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?” she asks.

“I wish.”

“Well, have fun, anyway. I’m jealous. I would rather be building that Death Star than going back to my place to write a 6000-word paper.”

Ned waves her off.

He climbs the fourteen flights of stairs slowly, too tired to be annoyed. He was not built for this kind of torture. Maybe this is why Peter is so ripped lately – all these stairs. Climbing them every day was bound to catch up with him at some point. Ned considers maybe climbing them for exercise, too. His knees screaming at him convince him to abandon that line of thinking. His lungs and heart concur.

Outside Peter’s apartment, he gets a good one-handed handle on the skeleton of the thing before letting himself in with the key the Parkers had given him years ago. The door slams a little on the close, causing May to stop humming to herself in the kitchen.

“Peter?” she calls, eyes on her phone. She’s probably trying another new recipe that won’t work. May is probably the worst cook Ned knows.

“Ned!” he calls back, locking the door behind himself.

“Hey, Ned! Is Peter on his way? Do you know? I’m trying this new turkey meatloaf recipe a friend from work texted me,” she says.

“I haven’t heard from him, but he shouldn’t be gone too much longer. He usually texts me from home this time of night,” Ned says, putting the Death Star down on the kitchen counter.

“I hope so. Anyway, how you been? Long time, no see. I was beginning to wonder whether you and Peter had a fight or something,” she says, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. She smells like rosewater and paper.

“I’ve been good. Just school and decathlon, I guess. Nothing to report. Peter invited me over to build my Lego Death Star together,” Ned says, nodding at it on the counter.

“Well, if it gets late, you’re welcome to stay over. You know that,” she says. She opens the fridge, pulling out some fresh-looking green stuff and basting sauce. Her hair is pinned up messily on top of her head and her glasses her slightly skew.

Ned misses her. He misses this house. He misses everything about his time with Peter. It’s like coming home – the only thing that would’ve made it better is if he was here for a Star Wars marathon and it’s snowing outside and he’s making them some of his famous hot chocolate.

They tried to get out of him what makes it so good at some point. May had left the room and Peter had immediately gotten Ned into a headlock. He’d laughed, but, on the inside, he’d been freaking out about being that close to Peter. They’d been thirteen at the time and that night had marked the first night things had been awkward for Ned when they woke up against each other in Peter’s bed the next morning.

He’s seen so little of Peter over the past two months that he’d even take the painfully awkward memories over no memories at all.

At some point, May’s phone rings and she says Ned can always wait for Peter in his room. She needs to take the call. Ned nods and disappears into Peter’s slightly messy room. It still smells the same: like old socks and air-freshener. He sits down on the bed, Death Star in his lap. He’s excited now. He let’s himself be. It’s going to be a good night. Maybe he’ll just stay over, anyway.

That’s when he hears it.

The window opening.

He freezes where he sits. The scuffle there dies out after a couple seconds, leaving Ned wondering if he heard anything at all. But then something above him catches his eye.

His entire body goes numb as he sees Peter crawling on the ceiling.


	3. “I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where it gets gay, kids. 
> 
> I know. 
> 
> You're welcome xx

Ned watches in utter astonishment as Peter crawls to the door, shoots something at it that sticks and pulls it quietly shut. He then let’s himself down gently, hanging by the tips of his fingers still attached to the ceiling. When he hits the ground, it’s practically soundless. Finally, he has the door shut all the way.

But then he turns around.

And Ned drops the Death Star and gets to his feet all in one fluid motion. The crash of the Legos on the floor sounds like a gunshot in the quiet.

“What was that?” May calls from the kitchen.

“Uuuuuhh, nothing! Nothing!” Peter responds, his eyes huge and his voice high with shock.

“You’re the Spider-Man,” Ned breathes, “from YouTube.”

“I’m not. I’m not,” Peter says, hitting the center of his chest. The trademark red and blue suit immediately seems to inflate and then it drops off Peter to the floor.

“You were on the ceiling,” Ned says.

“No, I wasn’t. Ned! What’re you doing in my room?” Peter demands, his voice edging on hysterical.

Ned frowns. “Aunt May let me in. You said we were gonna finish the Death Star!”

“You can’t just bust into my room!”

The door opens slowly. In a single stride, Peter is in front of Ned, the suit bundled at his feet and out of sight. He turns to face May.

She comes in giggling with smoke wafting around her. She waves it out of her face. “That turkey meatloaf recipe was a disaster. Let’s go to dinner. Thai? Ned, you want Thai?”

“Yes…”

“No!” interjects Peter. “He’s got a thing.”

“A thing to do, after…” Ned lets trail off, because Peter is now basically against him, and he’s only in his underwear, and Ned can’t breathe, let alone think straight. He just keeps a polite smile on his face for May.

“Okay,” May says, doing that thing where she appears to be completely cool, but both the boys know she’s actually suspicious as hell. Gesturing at the mostly naked Peter, she says: “Maybe put on some clothes.” She then lets herself back out and shuts the door behind her.

“Ooh, she doesn’t know?!” Ned whispers.

“Nobody knows!” Peter whispers back, pulling a sweatshirt he’d grabbed over his head. “Well, I mean, Mr. Stark knows, ‘cause he made my suit, but that’s it!”

 _Holy shit_ , Ned thinks.

“ _Tony Stark made you that?_ ” he asks, gesturing at the suit on the floor. Then the question of all questions comes to him. “Are you an avenger?”

Peter deliberates, but only for a beat. “Yeah. Basically.”

Ned’s knees go boneless. He leans back against the bed, catching himself on the top bunk. Peter comes back over to him, putting their faces really close together. Ned forgets how to breathe again.

“You can’t tell anybody about this. You gotta keep it a secret,” Peter says, his voice pleading.

“A secret? Why?”

“You know what she’s like! If she finds out people are trying to kill me every night, she’s not gonna let me do this anymore!” Peter says, gesturing at the door May just disappeared through.

Ned stops himself right there. He was about to say, “Well, what if I don’t want that for you, either?” It would’ve ruined everything. Absolutely everything. He blames it on shock. He’s usually better at keeping his composure around Peter.

“C’mon, Ned. Please?” Peter begs.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay…” Ned says. “I’ll level with you: I don’t think I can keep this a secret. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, Peter!”

“Look, May can _not_ know. I cannot do that to her right now,” Peter is still pleading. Ned reckons he just needs to wear Peter down. Then, they can talk, friend to friend, and Ned can convince him of how crazy this is. But Peter is still talking: “You know? I mean, everything that’s happened with her… I… Please?”

There they are. Those eyes. They’ve gotten Ned into so much trouble in the past, but he caves for them every time. He can’t help it. Not when Peter is looking at Ned like he’s the only thing standing in between Peter and what he wants.

“…Okay,” Ned relents.

“Just… Swear it, okay?”

Ned signs over his soul. “I swear.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” Peter says, hands in his hair.

“Yeah, neither can I,” Ned almost says.

Instead, he tries to distract Peter. Tries to make light of the situation, so Peter doesn’t do that thing he’s always doing – carrying a burden that isn’t really his to carry, or isn’t his to carry alone.

“Can I try the suit on? How does it work? Is it magnets? How do you shoot the string?”

Then, Peter’s pushing him out the door, back in full-panic mode. “So, I’m gonna tell you about this at school tomorrow, okay?”

“Great,” Ned says, letting himself be ushered out. Clearly, their night together is over. He’s disappointed, but not surprised. “Wait,” it dawns on him suddenly. Peter stops just inside the door. “How do you do this – and the Stark Internship?”

Peter looks at him like he’s missing something huge. This happens a lot. Ned’s mom says it’s because he lives in his own head a little too much. Ned wonders if it isn’t because he’s just nowhere near as smart as Peter. Not that many people are, but he always figured Peter wouldn’t hang out with him if he was too dumb or too lame.

“This _is_ the Stark Internship,” Peter says.

“Ooooohhh…”

“Just get out,” Peter hisses, pushing him out the door and then closing it behind him.

Ned makes up a story about an assignment he has to go do at home for a subject he and Peter don’t share. May tells him goodnight and says she hopes she sees him around more often now. He says he thinks that’s in the cards from now on.

The stairs aren’t as daunting on the way down and it gives him enough time to call for the friendly Uber driver again. She’s idling by the curb when he gets back out there.

“So? How was your night?” she asks, sounding excited for him.

“Not a total bust, but definitely not what I’d hoped it would be.” They pull away, headed towards Queens Boulevard.

“He’s not awful to you, is he?” she asks, hitting the turn signal.

“Not awful, no. He just doesn’t see me, you know?”

“Boy, do I know what that’s like. His loss, I say.” She gives him a sincere smile.

 _His loss_ , Ned tries to convince himself, but why does he feel like the only one losing?

 

“What’s the matter?” May asks, at dinner. “Thought you loved larb.”

Peter picks listlessly at his food, not really having an appetite. He really hopes Ned keeps his secret. This could potentially ruin everything – and then it wouldn’t even matter if Mr. Stark made him an official avenger, because May would never let him go. He couldn’t go against her like that, not after his uncle and all she’s done to be a mother to him. The anxiety is eating him alive. So, honestly, he feels like if he eats now, he’s just going to throw everything back up.

“It’s too larb-y?” she asks.

Can she just stop talking about food? If he blows chunks over this table, he’s walking into traffic.

“Not larb-y enough?” she presses. When he still doesn’t respond, she says, “How many times do I have to say “larb” before you talk to me? You know I larb you.” She makes a face that he catches. It puts him a little more at ease.

“I’m just stressed. The internship…and I’m tired. A lotta work,” Peter dismisses, trying once more to have an appetite for his food. No dice, so far.

“So, it has nothing to do with Ned?” she asks.

_Ned?_

He looks up in confusion.

“I’m just saying. No scenario I can envision in which you two build that Death Star of his involves you being in your underwear,” she hints, lifting a fried prawn to her mouth.

Peter’s frown deepens.

“Also, he so obviously misses you. He looked so happy to be there tonight. Peter, I really think you two should talk. This being too busy for him isn’t good for you. You two were each other’s worlds for so long. I always used to think…” she trails off.

Peter sits up straighter.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not really my place. Point is, you two are best friends and you need each other. You balance each other out. I’m sure the big reason you’re so overworked is because you don’t give yourself time to unwind, and you never unwound more than with Ned. Just talk to him, okay? Promise?” she finishes, taking a sip of her drink.

Peter knows this, of course. He misses Ned every day and every time he’s out there. He just can’t let himself dwell too much on that, or he might stop being Spider-Man altogether. He is, however, not blind to the tone of suggestion in May’s voice. She always used to think what? He wants to ask, but he’s a little afraid of the answer. Things are complicated enough as they are. If he lets himself think… He cuts himself off right there.

“Promise,” he says, giving her a small smile.

“That’s my boy,” she says, reaches across the table and cups his cheek.

He lets himself be comforted.

On the TV behind her, the news is covering the ATM robbery he botched at stopping earlier.

“ _…after an ATM robbery was thwarted by Queens’ own colorful, local crime-stopper, the Spider-Man_ ,” the news reader reports. They show probably the most unflattering picture of Peter they could’ve shown. “ _As the Spider-Man attempted to foil their heist, a powerful blast was set off, slicing through the bodega across the street_.” That’s when May turns to watch, too. “ _Miraculously, no one was harmed_.”

 _At least the cops caught the robbers_ , Peter thinks, _and Mr. Delmar is alright. But what in the hell were those weapons? And how did a bunch of ATM robbers get their hands on them?_

“If you spot something like that happening, you turn and you run the other way,” May says, then.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees fervently. “Of course.”

“Six blocks away from us!” May exclaims.

“I, uh, need a new backpack,” Peter drops, trying for a sincere smile, but coming off more nervous than anything.

May pushes her one ear forward in a “I obviously didn’t hear you right” gesture. “What?”

“I-I need a new backpack,” he says again.

“That’s five!” she says, but Peter is saved from any further reprimand by the reappearance of their waiter.

He puts a plate down on their table.

“Sticky rice pudding,” he announces.

“We didn’t order that,” May says, ever-friendly. Peter knows she’s pissed.

“It’s on the house,” the waiter says, smiling back.

“Oh! Thanks,” May says.

With a last look at her, the waiter leaves.

“That’s nice of him,” she says, eyes on the pudding.

“I think he _larbs_ you,” Peter assesses.

May looks surprised and points at herself disbelievingly. Peter laughs.

 

When Ned pitches up outside his building the next morning, ready to head to school with him, Peter is the one who’s weird. He has to carry his books, because May is teaching him a lesson by not buying him a new bag right away. They aren’t even remotely heavy, but he’s arms are at weird angles to carry them and he keeps bumping into Ned who suddenly seems oddly close. Peter knows he’s being stupid. Nothing is weird about this. This is who they are – who they’ve always been. May is just a hopeless romantic who thinks she’s looking out for Peter by faffing.

“You got bit by a spider?” Ned is saying. “Can it bite me? It probably would’ve hurt, right? You know what? Whatever. Even if it did hurt, I’d let it bite me. Maybe. How much did it hurt?”

“The spider’s dead, Ned,” Peter says, sounding a little more curt than he intended. He’s just super uncomfortable right now and not really in the mood to talk about this.

Ned makes a noise of disappointment as the carnage from the previous night looms up in front of them. They come to a stop, taking it all in.

“Wow,” Ned says, trying to see everything at once. After a beat, he says, “You were here?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. Everything looks so much different during the day, so much worse.

“You could’ve died,” Ned says, then, his voice dripping with concern.

Peter stares hard at him, May’s words from last night on an endless loop in his head. Before Ned can pick up on the awkwardness, Peter faces forward again, pretending to focus on what’s left of the bodega.

“Do you lay eggs?” Ned asks into the silence.

The question catches Peter so off-guard that he entirely forgets about his internal war and turns to Ned, laughing. “What? No.”

That entire day is just Ned asking question after ridiculous question. Peter gets so tense and annoyed by it all that he loses his shit at Ned by fourth period and starts telling him to shut up. If someone hears this, Peter’s life is officially over. But Ned isn’t so easily dissuaded. During P.E. is when things heat up.

They’re watching a government-issued Captain America video about some fitness challenge or other and Ned asks Peter if he knows Cap.

“Yeah. We met. I stole his shield,” Peter recounts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ned looking more excited than Peter’s ever seen him. Peter smiles to himself.

They’re instructed to pair up at the end of the video and then given sets of exercises to do. Since P.E. is a required subject, Midtown couldn’t do away with it altogether, but they do try to monopolize it by having two classes go together to save time. Today, it’s Peter’s class with Liz’s. When he came in, he’d stretched a little to loosen up and she’d stared as his shirt rode up a little to bare his stomach. He’d quickly pulled it back down and headed after Ned to the stands.

This means he’s also painfully aware of her and her friends sitting not ten feet away while Ned keeps his legs pinned for sit-ups and peppers him with more questions.

“Can I be your ‘guy in the chair’?” Ned asks suddenly.

“What?”

“You know how there’s a guy with a headset telling the other guy where to go? Like, if you’re stuck in a burning building, I could tell you where to go, because there’d be screens around me…”

“Ned, shut up,” Peter says as the teacher walks by.

“…and I could shoot around things, because I’d be your guy in the chair!” Ned barrels on, excitedly.

“Ned, I don’t need a ‘guy in the chair’.”

“Looking good, Parker,” the teacher says.

Peter slows down, acting winded and tired.

Behind them, Liz’s friends are play ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’. It’s Betty Brant’s turn.

“No, see, for me it would be: eff Thor, marry Iron-Man, and kill Hulk.” She looks expectantly at the others.

“But what about the Spider-Man?” one of them asks.

This has Peter’s ears pricking up. He and Ned both turn to listen.

“It’s just Spider-Man,” Liz says. “Did you guys see that bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys!”

“Oh, my god, she’s crushing on Spider-Man,” Betty surmises.

Peter’s stomach is in knots.

“No way,” the other friend says.

“Kind of…” Liz says.

Peter feels Ned’s hands slip down from under his knees to his ankles as he relaxes back off his haunches. It makes Peter turn back sharply. He’s fighting throwing up again.

“Ugh, gross!” says Betty, making him turn back to them. “He’s probably, like, thirty.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like. What if he’s, like, seriously burned?”

“I wouldn’t care,” says Liz. “I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.”

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” blurts Ned.

Peter has no idea how he’s keeping his lunch down. The entire room turns to look at him.

“Uh… No, I don’t! No, uh, I mean…” he stops himself from stammering.

“They’re friends,” Ned puts his foot deeper in it.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends,” Flash says from the climbing ropes.

“I’ve met him…a couple times…” Peter attempts damage control. “It’s, um, through the Stark Internship.” Flash tilts his head mockingly, but Peter keeps going, “Mm-hm. Yeah, I’m not really supposed to _talk about it_.” He aims the last part at Ned.

“That’s awesome,” Flash says. “Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party, right?”

“Yeah! Um, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come,” she invites, giving Peter one of those _looks_.

“I mean, I’m meant to be spending the evening puking my guts up, but I’ll see if I can reschedule,” Peter almost says, but doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You’re having a party?” which, let’s face it, is far more intelligent.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope,” says Flash. “You should totally invite your personal friend, Spider-Man.”

“Um…”

“It’s okayyy… I know Peter is WAY too busy for parties, anyways, so…” Liz says, her eyes intense on Peter.

“Oh, come on. He’ll be there. Right, Parker?” Flash pushes.

Peter is saved from answering by the bell.

Liz gives Peter another one of those sultry, only-person-in-the-room looks as she leaves with her friends. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Peter turns on Ned.

“ _What_ are you doing?!”

“Helping you out!” he says, quietly. “Did you not hear her? Liz has a crush on you!”

All Peter can think is how Aunt May was so very, very wrong with her larb-fueled suggestions the previous night.

“Dude, you’re an avenger,” Ned drives home. “If any one of us has a chance with a senior girl, it’s you.”

 

Ned brings over his clothes for the party to Peter’s that night. Neither of them has been to a high school party before and Peter looked stressed about it all day. So, he figured they could support each other. This is also why he packed half his closet and, like, three different hats.

Peter is throwing every item of clothing he has ever owned on the floor and dropping his head into his hands every so often. Ned begins to wonder if maybe he did the wrong thing. He has never seen Peter look this stressed before. At the same time, though, tonight could be the night Peter finally gets with Liz and Ned can go back to being his friend and not his friend-who-wants-to-be-his-boyfriend AND they could be super popular on top of it all. Peter just needs stick it out. If he can fight Captain America, he can do this.

Peter does make it hard on Ned, though, when he steps out of his closet in the suit Mr. Stark made him. Why does it have to be that tight? Why does he have to be that beautiful? It’s not fair. Life sucks. Then, Peter puts on baggy jeans, a baggy shirt and a loose flannel over everything and he’s just Peter again and Ned is just sad again.

When they pull up to the party later, though, Peter looks on the verge of passing out.

“A house party in the suburbs! Oh, I remember these,” May says. “Kinda jealous.”

“It’ll be a night to remember,” Ned says, hoping Peter hears him and doesn’t chicken out.

“Ned, some hats wear men. You wear that hat,” May compliments.

“Yeah? It gives me confidence.”

“This was a mistake,” Peter says, staring out the window. He turns to May and says, “Hey, let’s just go home.”

“Oh, Peter. I know. I _know_ it’s really hard trying to fit in with all the changes your body’s going through. It’s flowering now,” she taunts.

“Ha ha…”

“He’s so stressed out lately,” she says, turning to Ned.

“What helps with stress is going to a party. So, we should go to the party,” Ned eggs him on.

“Let’s do it. Yeah, I’m gonna go,” Peter says, unbuckling his seatbelt and letting himself out of the car.

Ned follows suit.

“Peter!” May calls.

He ducks back inside the open door.

“Have fun, okay?”

“I will,” he says.

He’s never sounded less enthusiastic in his life. Ned decides to be hype enough for the both of them.

“Bye, May!” he waves her off.

He heads into the party with Peter, lagging only to ask him if he has the suit. He’d gone to bathroom before they left, and it wouldn’t surprise Ned if he’d chickened out then, already, and took it off. Peter pulls up his sleeve to show Ned.

“This is gonna change our lives!” Ned gushes.

Peter pushes open the front door and it looks like every teen high school movie that Ned has ever seen. Kids with pizza and red plastic cups mill around, some talking and some dancing. Flash is the DJ and the lights are low and everything smells like people’s breath and sweat.

“Okay,” Ned says quietly at Peter’s shoulder, stopping him with a hand on his back. “We’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight – and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro hugs.”

“Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party,” a voice pipes up over the din. It’s Michelle, buttering a piece of toast.

“You’re here, too,” Ned notes.

“Am I?” she says, munches on her toast and disappears into the crowd.

“Oh, my gosh!” comes another voice. This time, Liz. “Hey, guys! Cool hat, Ned.”

“Hi, Liz,” says Ned.

Peter looks like he’s going to pass out again. “Hey, Liz.”

“I’m so happy you guys came,” she says, eyes only for Peter. Ned wants to pour her drink down her shirt.

 _Chill, Ned_ , he chastises himself.

“There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself,” she says.

“What a great party,” Peter says. The anxiety is coming off him in waves.

“Thanks,” Liz replies, her eyes the headlights Peter is trapped in.

A crash somewhere in the house pulls her away. “My parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta…um…”

“Yeah!” says Peter, looking kind of relieved.

“Have fun!” she says, leaving.

“Bye!” says Ned.

When they’re alone, Ned rounds on Peter.

“Dude, what are you _doing_? She’s here. Spider-Man up!”

“No, no, no, no. I can _not_ do this. Spider-Man is _not_ a party trick, okay?” Peter says. “Look, I’m just gonna…be myself…”

“Peter, no one wants that…” Ned puts his foot in his mouth.

“Dude!” Peter says, his expression utterly wounded. He leaves Ned to stand there alone, while Peter goes to immerse himself in the party and hope the vibe helps him feel less like death.

“Penis Parker! What’s up!” Flash calls over his sound system. “Where’s your pal, Spider-Man? Let me guess, in Canada with your imaginary girlfriend?”

Everyone laughs, which pisses Peter off. Why did he even come here?

“That’s not Spider-Man,” Flash continues to goad. “That’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

Peter agrees, then. He tells Ned to wait there for him while he goes to change. Ned looks excited and Peter is excited to knock that smug look off Flash’s stupid face.

But half an hour passes and Peter doesn’t come back. Ned heads to the kitchen for pizza and Coke, but two of Flash’s friends are there, looking at him funny. So, he only takes Coke and leaves the pizza. When another fifteen minutes pass, he shuts himself in a room and calls Peter. It rings a couple times and then he gets voicemail. Something major better be happening. Even his damn hat isn’t helping keep him up for tonight anymore. He calls again, but gets only voicemail this time.

“Peter, where are you? The hat’s not working. This is NOT cool,” he says and ends the call.

He decides to just rejoin the party and have fun by himself. Peter wouldn’t just drop him like this. He tries to find Michelle, but she’s MIA, and he is definitely not confident enough to go hang out with Liz and her people. So, he heads to the kitchen again, takes the last slice of pizza and wanders around.

Flash decides to pick on him again when Ned wanders past his table for a third time.

“So, I guess no one told Peter about your date, huh? You think he ran away with Spider-Man?” he says over the loudspeakers.

“Shut up, Flash. I’m not in the mood,” Ned says, headed out to the backyard, but Flash’s people cut him off. He gets forced to the back of the room, near the front door. Flash calls for everyone’s attention.

“When I say “Penis”, you say “Parker”,” Flash says on the mic. “PENIS!”

“PARKER!” the crowd yells.

“PENIS!”

“PARKER!”

Ned tries Peter again.

“Hey, man. What’s up? I’m on my way back,” Peter answers.

“Actually, I was calling to say maybe you shouldn’t come,” Ned says. “Listen to this.” He points his phone at Flash doing the ‘Penis Parker’ chant for a minute. “Sorry, Peter. I guess we’re still losers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow in school,” Peter says and ends the call.

He wonders if Peter knows tomorrow is Saturday.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Ned regrets even insisting on this. Peter didn’t even want to come. He’s right, anyway. Spider-Man isn’t a gimmick. Ned just feels stupid and like a bad friend. He calls his mom to come get him.

 

Ned finds him in shop on Monday. The weekend passed in a haze Peter doesn't remember much of, because he'd been recovering from the fight and trying to find those assholes with the weird weapons. He'd gotten a chunk of some of the alien tech that night when they’d tried to kill him. He is determined to figure out what it does and how it works. He also thinks that maybe taking it apart can help him track down the manufacturer. Presently, he’s trying to take it apart with a hammer. The key is to hit it hard enough to crack the casing, but not hard enough to smash it to pieces.

 _Take it easy, Spidey_ , he tells himself.

He manages to crack the metal surrounding it, just as Ned comes up behind him.

“Hey, thanks for bailing on me,” Ned sounds at his shoulder.

Ned is wearing this dark blue t-shirt today that sets off his skin gorgeously. Peter nails himself in the thumb with the hammer. What is happening to him?

“Yeah, well, something came up,” Peter says, around his sore thumb in his mouth, pointing his chin at the piece of tech.

“Woah. What is that?” Ned asks, leaning in closer.

“I don’t know,” Peter groans, needing to balance his strength again to take it apart without crushing it. “Someone tried to vaporize me with it last night.”

It’d been crazy. He’d been on the roof of Liz’s shed, getting himself amped up enough to go show up Flash – when he’d seen an explosion off in the distance. The party forgotten, he’d gone to investigate and, as luck would have it, walked right in on a deal going down. Someone was buying some of the weird weapons the ATM robbers had had. When Ned had called him, the other guys had started shooting. He’d tailed them until some dude in animatronic wings had flown him up a thousand feet and dropped him in a lake. If Mr. Stark hadn’t save him, he’d probably be dead – not that he’d tell Mr. Stark that.

“Really?” Ned says, sounding a tad too worried to his own ears. He lets up and comes back with, “Awesome!”

Peter frowns at him. Okay, maybe that was too blasé.

“Not awesome. Totally uncool, that guy. So scary,” Ned tries again, but he stops himself, because he just sounds patronizing now.

Peter gives him an amused look, so he guesses he didn’t screw up too bad.

“I think it’s a…” Peter chips away at more of casing, “…power source.”

“Yeah, but it’s connected to all these microprocessors. That’s an inductive charging plate. That’s what I use to charge my toothbrush,” says Ned.

“Whoever’s making these weapons is obviously combining alien tech with ours.”

“That is literally the coolest sentence anyone has ever said. I just wanna thank you for letting me be a part of your journey into this amazing–”

Peter, having given up trying to find the laser cutters he was looking for, decides to just go for it and whacks at the thing with all he’s got. He and Ned jump out of the way when the casing shatters, sending pieces flying in all directions.

They both spin around to check if the teacher saw anything, but he hasn’t even looked up from his magazine. All they get is a “Keep your fingers clear of the blades!”

“We gotta figure out what this thing is and who makes it,” Peter says, scanning Ned for injury.

What’s left of the thing is a sort of glass and metal, purple, glowy thingy.

“We’ll go to the lab after class and run some tests,” Ned says.

They do their lamer than lame secret handshake. Peter pockets the thing.

“First, I say we put the glowy thingy in the mass-spectrometer,” Ned leans in to say as they head down the hallway after class.

“First, we gotta come up with a better name than glowy thingy,” Peter says, smirking.

Ned doesn’t mind glowy thingy so much and is about to voice this when Peter grabs his arm with a whispered “Crap!” He’s staring dead ahead at these two guys coming up the hall. He pulls Ned with him out of sight, but Ned doesn’t get it fast enough and stays put.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Peter hisses.

Ned follows him.

Peter leans back around the corner to get a look at the guys, trying to be inconspicuous, but Ned just leans right out from behind the wall. Peter yanks him back.

“Ned, that’s one of the guys who tried to kill me,” Peter whispers.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sneaking another peek.

“We gotta get outta here!” Ned whispers urgently.

“No, no, no. I gotta follow them. Maybe they can lead me to the guy that dropped me in the lake,” Peter says.

“Someone dropped you in a lake?”

“Yeah. It was _not_ good,” Peter says, creeping back into the hall.

“Peter!”

“No. Stay there, Ned!”

“ _Peter!_ ”

Peter gestures for him to stay, mouthing the word at him again before he sneaks after the men. Thankfully, Ned does not follow him. He can’t worry about him, too, right now. He goes down the hall as fast as he can, slipping soundlessly through the door the men disappeared behind – which leads back to the now empty shop class. Peter descends the stairs low, slow and quietly, listening for anything these goons might be saying.

“Man, could you imagine what the boss would say if he knew where we were?” the one guy says to the one who tried to kill Peter.

“It’s saying there was an energy pulse right here,” the killer-dude says, looking down at some kind of device which Peter thinks is designed to track the energy frequency of the alien tech.

“There’s no sign of the weapon,” his partner says. “I mean, even if it was here, now it’s gone.”

“So are we,” killer-dude says.

Peter had been sneaking under one of the tables and it’d been going great until his bag brushed against one of the upturned stools on top and made it wiggle. He can’t see the men anymore, but he does hear what sounds distinctly like a gun cocking. He hears them coming toward him.

They pass by and leave, but not before Peter puts a tracker on one of them.

He lowers himself from the underside of table only about five minutes after they leave. By the time he gets back to the hall, Ned’s gone and the period is almost over. Peter feels oddly empty.


	4. “I got too high again. Realized I can’t not be with you or be just your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most emotional motherfucking shit you've ever read. Tears guaranteed, or your money back. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I don't have actual money to give you. Just pretend you cried.

“This is so awesome,” Ned is saying that afternoon after school. He’s holding the detached palm display from Peter’s suit, watching the little tracker move with the guys who came to their school.

“I know, right?” Peter says, falling onto his bed next to Ned, who’s on the floor.

Ned pokes at it and the hologram lifts a little higher.

“Brooklyn,” Peter says, thinking of Cap. The tracker is in Brooklyn, but it’s not stopping there.

They decide to get comfortable. Peter goes and gets food from the kitchen, pouring each of them a big glass of orange juice from the fridge. When he gets back, Ned has kicked off his boots. Peter takes off his sneakers, too. He’s itching to get out of his jeans, but doesn’t want to be weird.

This is annoying, he decides. May did this with her uncalled-for hints at nothing. Just last night, Ned was setting him up with Liz. This is bullshit. He kicks off his jeans and jumps onto the top bunk.

“Listen, how cool are just the physical side-effects of this?” Ned says, staring at him in awe. “Like, didn’t you used to be asthmatic? And so skinny that wind could blow you over? Now, you’re r–”

Peter stares at him now. Now, he’s what?

Ned clears his throat. “Really healthy and strong and stuff.”

“Well, it doesn’t suck, I’ll tell you that,” Peter says. “Especially not having asthma anymore. Makes P.E. a lot easier and my chest also doesn’t close up when I panic, anymore.”

“Yeah?” Ned laughs. “What about the gag reflex?”

Peter recalls last night with Liz in too-vivid clarity. “Nope. That’s still there. I guess it’s kind of worse. I don’t know, it’s like everything is dialed up to eleven now. So, anxiety is _a lot_ worse, but because my chest doesn’t close up anymore, I can still sort of deal.”

“A gift and a curse,” Ned sighs dramatically.

“Oh, the burden of being a superhero,” Peter clutches at his chest in mock emotional distress, letting himself hang backwards off the bed.

“You think if I’d been Spider-Man, it would’ve gotten rid of this this?” Ned asks, poking himself in the gut.

Peter frowns.

“I hope not,” he says. Ned looks up at him, surprised. “Dude, you’re the coolest, best person I know. You can’t look like Flash, too. First, because no one should have that much power and, second, because I’m 150% sure he’s only an asshole, because he’s a jock-stereotype. There’s nothing wrong with how you look. You look like Ned.”

Ned looks away, back at the hologram display, but Peter can see his neck going crimson up into his shiny, dark hair. This makes Peter blush, too. He hadn’t meant to go so hard on the complimenting. He meant what he said, though – every word. He knows Ned’s appearance is a sore spot for him, but he’s always only looked like Ned to Peter. Like, if Peter had to meet someone else named Ned – and they didn’t look exactly like or close to his Ned – they wouldn’t be Ned.

‘His’ Ned.

What the hell has May done to him?

He reaches down for the bag of chips, opens it, takes a handful, and drops it back to the floor. Ned takes some, too, eyes riveted to the tracker. So, Peter lets himself hang there, upside down, watching it. He’s suddenly stumped for what to talk about. It’s not like he has any idea what really goes on in Ned’s life anymore. He’s been too occupied with being Spider-Man for that. He reaches for the chips again. Ned lifts the bag without looking at him.

“Staten Island,” he says, still looking nowhere but at the tracker.

“So, did you ever crack YouTube?” Peter asks, suddenly.

Ned looks up for the first time, but ahead, not at Peter.

“I didn’t,” he answers. “I made that app, though. Took some doing, but it’s been out for about a month now. It’s sitting at 1 billion downloads. I’m busy working on an update that lets you download from any media-sharing site there is. It’s cool, because it has a built-in snipping tool, so you can download only bits and pieces, too, if you want…”

Ned gushes for a while. Peter listens intently, trying not to smile the entire time. Ned always gets so animated when he’s talking about computers. Here is the next Tony Stark, Peter thinks. Ned is going to revolutionize computing and the internet someday. When he takes a breather, Peter asks a couple of questions, just so Ned can keep talking.

At some point, they hear May get home. Peter flips off the top bunk and casually slips his jeans back on. She comes in and asks Ned if he’s staying for dinner. Peter says yes for him, which makes May smile – and Ned, Peter sees after she leaves. Ned is lying on his back on the floor, at this point. He unearths an ancient tape deck Peter had meant to restore, but had forgotten about. He hands Ned his mini toolkit and Ned gets to work, keeping himself busy. Peter decides to see if his suit needs any repairs after two months of rigorous use.

A while later, Ned announces the tracker is now leaving Jersey.

Peter fixes up the suit, which sustained almost no damage (because Tony Stark is a _genius_ ), and hides it in the ceiling. Ned got ahold of the mask, though, so Peter lets him look at it. Thankfully, he hides it quickly when May comes back to call them for dinner.

She’s made spaghetti, which is something she _can_ make – and make well. They eat way too much and have to lean on each other on the way back to Peter’s room. Peter feels oddly warm at Ned’s arm around his waist. It also feels like May is watching them from the kitchen, but he pretends to be entirely neutral about everything and just kicks the door shut behind them.

He jumps up, onto the ceiling and turns so his back is to it and he’s ‘lying’ against it. Ned pulls the mask over his head and Peter laughs, because he says it’s squeezing his brain. After a minute, the material adjusts and it hugs Ned’s head instead of cutting off the circulation. He sits down on Peter’s bed and lies back.

“Hey, if this,” he points at the mask, “is the Stark Internship, then what was the Retreat?”

Peter sighs. He’s been waiting for this question. He can’t believe Ned didn’t press it yesterday when he mentioned stealing Cap’s shield. Probably let his imagination run away with him instead. That’s Ned for you.

“I guess I might as well tell you. I wanted to at the beginning, but I had to keep it a secret. Now, I don’t have to anymore. It’s kinda nice, I guess…” Peter realizes it is. Not having to keep the secret from Ned anymore is a much bigger relief than he’s let himself feel.

“Peter?”

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s just good not having to hide from you anymore. It used to eat me alive.”

He’s done it again – gone harder than he needed to. Ned isn’t looking at him, so he let’s himself blush with reckless abandon, trying not to hate himself equally as much.

“Mr. Stark took me to Berlin with him. Cap had… How did he put it? “Gone off the reservation”. They needed to bring him in and talk some sense into him, but he wanted to fight for his…boyfriend? Best friend? I don’t know, man. Anyway, I went toe-to-toe with some of the avengers. Cap, his boyfriend-slash-best-friend with the metal arm, some dude with these killer carbon fiber wings, a guy that can shrink to invisibility or grow to the size of a building, Scarlet Witch and Hawkeye. It was insane. We lost, but it was insane. We only lost, because Black Widow caved and let Cap and his man get away on Mr. Stark’s jet.”

“Is Cap’s boyfriend hot?” Ned asks. “Also, why does he have a metal arm?”

“I’d say he’s pretty hot. Ripped as all hell and super intense. Definitely the dark and broody type. He also has this long, dark hair. If you’re into “bad boy heartthrob” types, he’s your guy,” Peter assesses. “As for his arm, it looked like a prosthesis. He probably lost his real arm at some point. It was killer, though. Super high-tech.”

“Did you get hurt real bad?” Ned asks, then, pushing up onto his elbows. He turns his masked face on Peter.

Peter looks him dead in the eyes when he says, “Not much. A bit banged up after the growing guy tossed me into a pile of wooden crates, but Mr. Stark got me back to the hotel and I was all healed up by morning.”

“Good,” Ned says, lying back down.

Peter smiles at him.

An urgent buzzing sounds up. It’s the display. Ned picks it up.

“They stopped,” he says.

Peter lets himself dangle upside down from the ceiling by his feet, turning around to face Ned and the display.

“Maryland,” he says, staring at the display.

“What’s there?” Ned asks.

“Hey, I don’t know. Evil lair?” Peter suggests, only half-joking.

“Evil lair?”

“Dude, a gang with alien guns run by a guy with wings? Yeah, they have a lair,” Peter says, excitedly.

“Badass,” Ned decides. “But how are you gonna get there if it’s, like, 300 miles away?”

Peter glances over at the decathlon poster on his wall. “It’s not too far from D.C.”

 

So, the next morning, Ned heads to school with a packed bag for the decathlon. His and Peter’s stuff is in one bag, in case they agree to let him rejoin the team. If not, he doesn’t look too desperate pitching up with a bag of his own.

“Hey, it's Peter!” Abraham greets as Peter runs up to the team.

“Hey, guys,” Peter says.

“Peter?” Liz’s suspicion is everyone’s suspicion.

“Yeah, I was hoping maybe I could rejoin the team?” Peter gets right into it.

“No,” Flash says immediately, turning from harassing Michelle. He walks right up to Peter. “No way. You can’t just quit on us, stroll up and be welcomed back by everyone.”

“Hey! Welcome back, Peter,” Mr. Harrington says, stepping out of the bus. “Flash, you’re back to first alternate.”

“What?”

“He’s taking your place!” Abraham says to Flash.

“Uh, excuse me, can we go already? ‘Cause I was hoping to get in some light protesting in front of one of the embassies before dinner, so…” Michelle pipes up from the back.

“Protesting is patriotic,” Mr. Harrington surmises. “Let’s get on the bus.”

Flash throws his team blazer at Peter.

Liz grills them on the way there. Ned decides to hang back and keep an eye on the tracker while Peter tries to get back into everyone’s good books. He also tries not to notice how Liz is staring into Peter’s soul every chance she gets. He’s sick of letting it bother him. He has his best friend back. Everyone and everything else can go to hell.

Peter suddenly comes to sit in the seat behind his, phone pressed to his ear.

“…it’s nothing,” he’s saying, frowning. “Look, Happy, I gotta say, you tracking me without my permission is a complete violation of my privacy.”

Ned gives him a look and points at the hologram in his hand.

“That’s different,” Peter hisses at him. Then, “Uh, nothing. Look, I… It’s just the academic decathlon. It’s no big deal.”

Ned watches the display, thinking he saw the tracker move, but it’s still in Maryland, in the exact same place. He’s beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

Peter ends the call, whispers to Ned to lower the display a little and then he goes back to sit up front with Liz and the rest.

When they finally roll up, it’s to a huge hotel. Ned has never seen anything this big before in his life. Distantly, he wonders if the Hulk is bigger. He thinks not. Peter is close by his side, surveying everything absently. Ned knows his mind is probably only with the job he came here to do.

When he speaks suddenly at Ned’s side, Ned jumps a little. “Hey, you brought your laptop, right?”

“Why?” Ned wants to know, but Flash doubles back and so they both fall silent.

Mr. Harrington and Liz check them all in and get everyone’s room keys. Peter and Ned obviously bunk together. Flash makes some lewd comment, which makes Ned blush and Peter crack his knuckles. Ned puts a hand on Peter’s inconspicuously. He relaxes somewhat, which helps Ned relax.

Later, in their room, Peter whips out the suit and has Ned plug it into his laptop. Peter wants Ned to find the tracker, so they can remove it. Ned doesn’t like that, but is honored Peter asked him for help.

Soon, though, his curiosity gets the better of him. “Peter, why are we removing the tracker from your suit?”

Peter is sitting with a flashlight in his mouth and tools splayed all over the bed, the suit in front of him.

“Uh,” he starts, the flashlight still in his mouth. He takes it out, “because I gotta follow these guys to their boss before they move again – and I don’t really want Mr. Stark to know about it.” He ends quietly, dishonestly.

“So, you’re lying to Iron Man now?” Ned deadpans.

“No, I’m not _lying_ ,” Peter says, giving Ned his “trust me and don’t be mad, please?” look. Ned’s own resolve is a little stronger. “He just doesn’t really get what I can do yet.” He goes back to the suit.

Ned gives him a concerned look that he misses.

Finding the tracker, Peter removes it delicately, making sure not to damage any of the other systems. “Alright, Happy. Enjoy tracking this lamp.” He puts the tracker on the lampshade.

“There’s a ton of other subsystems in here,” Ned says, refocusing his attention on his computer. Peter makes a noise of affirmation, “but they’re all disabled by the ‘Training Wheels Protocol’.”

“What?” Peter says, falling down on the bed next to Ned.

He gets super close to the see the screen and Ned feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin with nerves. He chuckles, instead, to hide his anxiety.

“The ‘Training Wheels Protocol’,” Peter reads. “Turn it off.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, they’re probably blocked for a reason,” Ned says, scared.

“Come on, man,” Peter whines, sliding back off the bed and going over to his own. “I don’t need training wheels!” He jumps onto it. “I’m sick of him treating me like a kid all the time. It’s _not_ cool.”

“But you _are_ a kid,” Ned reasons.

“Yeah, a kid who can stop a bus with his bare hands,” Peter counters.

“Peter, I just don’t think this a great idea! I mean, what if this is illegal?” Ned tries again.

“Look, please?” Peter begs, on his knees on the floor, at Ned’s side. Ned hates everything, but especially Peter Parker. “This is my one chance to prove myself. I can handle it. Ned, come on?”

Ned sighs. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“‘Guy in the chair’?” Peter whispers.

Ned wants to punch himself in the face. “Don’t _do_ that.”

“C’mon!”

Ned sighs again, but disables the damn protocol. He’s going to regret this.

The suit makes a funny sound and then glows blue. It repeats this, but then just lays there. Ned figures the recalibration must be done. He says this. Peter gets up and immediately starts stripping. Ned averts his eyes fast, keeping them glued to his laptop screen. Peter finishes by pulling the hood of the hoodie he’s wearing over his suit over his head and then peeks out the door.

“Okay, the glowy thing is evidence. Keep it safe, alright?” Peter says to Ned.

“Okay,” Ned says, picking it up off the bed.

Peter pops up the tracker display again. “They’re moving,” he says, backing out of the room.

“Be careful!” Ned says, weakly.

Then, he’s alone. He really hates this. He has a bad feeling about everything. If Peter dies tonight, it’ll be at least partly his fault. He enabled Peter by disabling that thing. Tony Stark is going to murder Ned and then cover it up and his parents will wait for him to come home forever.

To take his mind off things, he packs up his laptop, grabs the bag of snacks his mom packed for him and Peter, and heads out to try to find Michelle. He finds her at the pool with the others, reading, as usual. He stands awkwardly next to her until she looks up.

“I, uh, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out?” Ned asks, unsure why exactly he’s nervous. Maybe it’s her withering stare.

She closes her book, marking the place by folding the page in half.

“What’d you have in mind?” she asks, getting up.

“We could watch movies? If I don’t have anything you’d like, I can hack the building’s Wi-Fi and we could stream something?” Ned offers.

“Okay,” she says, leading the way. Calling over her shoulder, she says, “Save it, Flash. It beats hanging out with your creepy, desperate ass.”

Abraham and Cindy laugh loudly.

She takes the two of them to her room, that she’s sharing with – no surprise – no one. Her bag is open on a chair in the corner and there are two more books on her nightstand, aside from the one she’s carrying. This one, she puts on top of the other two, and then she’s sitting down on her bed, looking at Ned expectantly. He’s still standing on the threshold, realizing he’s never actually been inside a girl’s room before. He wonders what guys who like girls find so daunting.

“You have any horror movies?” Michelle asks, getting comfortable.

Ned comes in and closes the door with a snap.

“A few,” he says, slipping his backpack off his shoulders. “I have a bootleg copy of the new _Insidious_ movie, if you’re up for that?”

“I love those movies,” she says, scaring the living daylights out of Ned by smiling. A look he’s NEVER seen on her before. “They’re so ridiculous.”

“I have never seen less convincing effects in a 21st century movie,” Ned agrees, still dazzled, but playing it cool. He hands her the bag of snacks. “Pick out what you want. I’ll have whatever’s left.”

She takes it, eyeing him warily. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He frowns at her. “Because we’re friends…?”

“We are?”

“If you want?”

She considers this a moment, digging through the bag of snacks. She finds an entire box of Oreos – the kind where it’s half chocolate and half peanut butter. She pulls it out and clutches it to her chest.

“I’ll be your _best_ friend if I can have some of these?” she bargains.

“Deal,” he smiles.

She smiles back.

He unlocks his laptop and gets the movie ready. She helps by plugging the charger into the outlet on her side of the bed. Before sitting back down, she heads to the minibar and opens the small fridge there. She pulls out the entire carton of milk and brings it, and two glasses, back to the bed.

“For the Oreos,” she says.

“Obviously.”

As the opening credits of the movie start, Michelle asks, “So, where’s Peter?”

“S-studying in the business center,” Ned stutters, nervous for no reason.

“He better be. He’s missed so many practices. If he makes us lose tomorrow, I’m filling his locker with live frogs every day for the rest of the year,” she vows, taking an Oreo from her pile and dunking it in her glass of milk.

“I believe you,” Ned says, amused.

“You tell him that for me when he comes to bed later. You’re complicit now – I don’t care if he _is_ your boyfriend.”

Ned chokes on air.

She turns to him lightning fast, her eyes wide and her Oreo breaking off into soggy dregs in her milk.

Ned coughs a few times, wiping the tears from his face and trying to breathe normally again. Michelle abandons her Oreo to dissolve into her milk and puts the glass on the nightstand. She reaches out to Ned, but he stops her. He takes a few deep breaths, focusing on lowering his heartrate. Another minute later and he’s fine, his burning throat the only sign that anything had been amiss.

“Traitor Oreo?” Michelle asks, staring suspiciously at her own pile.

“Why would you think Peter is my boyfriend?” Ned can’t stop himself from asking.

Michelle turns her gaze on him, looking apprehensive and lost.

“Is he not?” she asks.

“No.”

“Has someone told _him_ that?” she asks, frowning now. She pulls her legs up to her chest and rests her hands on her knees.

“What do you mean?” Ned asks, curious now.

She looks ahead instead of at him when she responds. “The two of you are inseparable. In every class you have together, you basically sit on top of each other. You get each other lunch every day the other is busy. When he quit marching band and robotics lab, you didn’t stay on long after. To top it off, he has you lying for him.” Ned opens his mouth to argue, but she holds up a hand, turning to him now, “It doesn’t matter what about. That’s between the two of you. I just know two people in love when I see it. I’ve read enough books about it.”

Ned closes his mouth again, resigned.

“Does he not know you like him?” Michelle asks.

Ned shakes his head no. “He likes Liz. She likes him, too. Have you seen the way she looks at him?”

Michelle nods very assuredly, making a distasteful face. Ned likes her a little more, then.

“I don’t think he likes her, though. Have you ever asked him?” she asks, turning back to get her glass of milk and draining it.

“I never thought I needed to. Whenever she’s around, he gets all flustered and awkward and can’t talk right. That was always enough for me. He never got that way with me.”

“You two have also known each other forever. Maybe he’s just too comfortable with you to be weird about it? Look, I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I see and what I see are two dudes very much crushing on each other,” she says, hands up in a surrender gesture.

Ned smiles to himself, turning back to the movie of which they’ve missed the entire beginning. He pauses it and drags the slider back.

 

The next morning, Ned is worried sick. Peter still hasn’t come back and the decathlon is soon. He’s tried calling him a thousand times, but he only gets voicemail. What if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere? No. No, he’s not. He has a perfectly good explanation for where he is. He’ll be at the decathlon.

“Ned, Peter, we’re gonna be late! C’mon, let’s go!” Liz calls, knocking on their door.

“Okay, okay, okay! Ned says, dashing for his bag and the glowy thing.

Outside his door, Michelle is waiting for him. She smiles, but it falters when she sees him come out alone.

“He not been in yet?” she asks.

“Nope. I’m really worried, but I’m sure he’ll be at the decathlon. He wouldn’t miss something that important,” Ned reassures himself more than her.

“He’ll be there,” she says, squeezing his hand.

Ned, oddly, feels better.

When they roll up to the decathlon, Peter is nowhere in sight. Mr. Harrington slips off his team blazer and hands it to Flash, who is back in in Peter’s place. Ned has gone from worried to a little miffed. Where the hell is Peter? They actually need him. With him, there’s no way they’d lose. Now, they have chronically-wrong Flash. If they lose today, Ned’ll be the first to put those frogs in Peter’s locker.

They walk in, take their places onstage – and the decathlon begins.

The other school is scary good, but Midtown matches them answer for answer. Everyone is bringing their A-game – even Flash, who decides to keep his mouth shut for once in his life. Finally, they head into a sudden death round, the final answer determining the winning school.

“Zero,” says Michelle.

“That is correct!” the judge says.

Ned throws his arms around her and she smiles her changes-the-mood-of-the-entire-room smile and everyone comes in for hugs. She’s never looked this happy before. Ned squeezes her a little tighter.

“MIDTOWN TAKES THE CHAMPIONSHIP!”

They head to the Washington Monument after; a celebratory fieldtrip. Ned asks Michelle if she’s ever been. She says she’s not really interested in celebrating anything that was built by slaves. He agrees that’s fair, but asks if she’ll disown him for going up. She says no, as long as he doesn’t tell her about it after. He says he won’t. With a last hug, he heads after his teammates.

Before they go up, Ned tries Peter one last time. He gets him this time.

“Ah, Ned, you’re alive!” Peter answers.

“Peter, are you okay?” Ned asks, anxiously.

“Ned, where’s the glowy thing? The glowy thing!” Peter asks.

“Don’t worry. It’s safe. It’s in my backpack,” Ned reassures.

“No! Listen!” Peter says, but Ned is ready to rip him a new one for making him worry like this.

“You missed the decathlon! Michelle and I had to cover for you. We’re at the Washington Monument now. You gotta–” but his phone gets taken out of his hand.

By Liz.

Ned groans internally.

“Peter, is that you?” she asks, into the receiver. After a beat, she says, “You flake! You are so lucky we won. You know, I wanna be mad, but I’m more worried. Like, what is going on with you?”

She puts his phone on the conveyor belt, because it has to go through the x-ray.

Ned takes all his stuff on the other side and heads to the elevator with the team. As the doors close, Flash opens his stupid mouth again.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington, can I be the one to tell Peter he’s expelled?”

They start going up, the tour guide rambling off her schtick in monotone. Ned is only half-listening, realizing now he spoke over Peter and his friend sounded pretty distressed. That bad feeling he’s been having all weekend comes back in full force and intensifies for good measure.

As if on cue, a purple light fills the elevator, followed by an explosion. Ned clicks it came from his backpack, which he immediately takes off and throws on the floor.

THE GLOWY THING.

The elevator, which has stopped, starts to tremble.

“Oh, my god. Look at the ceiling,” says Flash.

An uneven ring of heat is seared into it.

“We’re all going to die here,” Abraham makes everything so much better.

“We’re freakin’ screwed,” someone else says.

“Okay, guys. I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working,” the guide drones.

 _Where are you, Peter?_ Ned thinks. _Please. We’re going to fall to our deaths._

“We’re very safe in here,” the guide adds.

Ned wants to tell her to shut up.

_PETER?!_

The guide gets the maintenance hatch in the ceiling open and they start boosting students out. Cindy goes first. But then the shuddering gets more violent. She hesitates, but Mr. Harrington pushes her to keep going. When Flash sees her get out, he pushes to go next, but Mr. Harrington reasons he’s nice and strong and has to help him with the others first. So, out goes Abraham and Bluebird. All the while, Ned is freaking the hell out. The shuddering is getting worse and worse.

When Flash finally gets his way and gets out, everything goes to shit. The elevator slips loose and starts plummeting down. Without even thinking about it, Ned screams bloody murder.

Then, out of nowhere, they’re stopping. Mr. Harrington loses his footing and hits the ground. The elevator starts moving upwards, slowly but surely. It’s Peter. It has to be!

But all hope is lost when they start falling again. Peter, in the Spider-Man suit, falls into the elevator with them. He shoots a string of webs up and through the hole in the ceiling, which has the elevator stopping again. Peter props himself up against what’s left of the ceiling and starts pulling them up again.

“Hey. How you doin’? Don’t worry about it, I got you,” Peter says.

Ned starts to cheer, going into a jig of excitement.

“Hey, big guy, quit moving around!” Peter cries.

“Sorry, sir! So sorry!” Ned says.

Peter pulls the entire elevator up all the way back to the doors. Ned is stunned. He’s obviously seen the stuff on YouTube, but in person it’s… Wow. Once they reach the doors, security pulls them back open and hoists Ned through. Next goes Mr. Harrington. When it’s finally Liz’s turn, the piece of ceiling Peter is propped against gives – and she’s falling again. Her screams echo down the shaft. Peter shoots another string of webs, but her screaming doesn’t stop. They don’t recede any farther, either.

Peter is pulling her up, talking to her quietly, reassuringly. Ned can’t hear what he’s saying over the panicked din. Finally, she’s back with them. Now, it’s only Peter left in the shaft.

“So, uh, is everyone okay?” Peter asks.

Everyone nods, too stunned to speak.

Peter hangs around another few seconds, and then his webs snap. Ned stands stunned – and then his reflexes kick in and he’s running down the stairs going around and around the elevator shaft.

He almost falls a few times, his joints, unused to the strain, screaming at him. His breathing is ripped out of him, his throat on fire, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop, even if he wants to. His body is on autopilot, carrying him down and down, around and around. To Peter. Peter, who saved them. Peter, his best friend. Peter, who he loves with everything in him. Peter, who is only human, too, and who surely can’t survive a fall from that height – even with his powers.

No matter how fast he goes, he’s too slow. He’s never wanted to be Flash more in his life. Faster, fitter, stronger. By the time he gets to the bottom, at least ten minutes have passed. He fights through cops and Search and Rescue and concerned employees and curious bystanders to get to the elevator shaft. They pull at him, rip at his blazer, scream at him, but he breaks through.

It’s empty.

The elevator shaft is empty.

No sign of Peter at all. Not even any leftover webs.

Ned collapses. He can’t breathe. He can’t feel his legs. His heart won’t stop hammering. He’s going to vomit.

“NED! _NEEEEEED!_ ”

Peter?

“Is he in there?! Move! _NED!_ ”

“ _Peter!_ ” he chokes out.

Hands on his shoulders from behind. Ned can’t move. He can’t open his eyes. He can’t breathe.

“ _CAN SOMEONE GET HIM A DAMN SEDATIVE? HE CAN’T BREATHE!_ ”

Definitely Peter. He’s here. He’s alright. With the tiny bit of strength Ned can muster that isn’t being sapped by his racing heart, he reaches up to Peter’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. Hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? They’re going to help you. Just hang in there, okay? Breathe for me. Deep breaths,” Peter says, near his ear.

A minute – an eternity – later, there’s a pinprick of burning in his neck. His heart slows down almost immediately. He swallows down great lungsful of air, his vision clearing and his muscles regaining feeling with each breath. He’s going to be okay. Peter saved him again.

“Peter?”

“I’m here! I’m here,” he says, coming around to kneel next to Ned. “How you doing? Is the sedative helping?”

“Yes. Thank you so much,” Ned takes another deep breath. “Thank you for saving my life twice.”

Peter pulls Ned into the tightest hug he’s ever gotten from anyone. Ned hugs him back.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so, so sorry,” Peter cries into Ned’s shoulder. “You could’ve died. I’m so sorry, Ned. Sorry. _Sorry…_ ”

“Peter! Peter, Peter, Peter! It’s okay. I’m okay. You saved me. I knew you would. I knew you’d be there. It’s fine, okay? It’s all okay.” Ned hugs him even tighter, his strength coming back the longer the sedative is in his system.

Peter pulls back, but only slightly. Their faces are less than an inch apart. Ned is painfully aware of all the people watching them. Peter doesn’t seem to care, though. He puts a hand on either side of Ned’s face, closes the gap and kisses Ned on the forehead. Ned’s heart gives a painful twinge and he realizes he’s holding his breath. He lets out a great gust of air when Peter finally pulls away and pulls him back into a hug. Ned cries, too, then.


	5. “I only wrote this down to make you press rewind and send a message: I was young and a menace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS NO HOMOPHOBIA IN THIS FIC
> 
> Now that we've gotten that out of the way, have the sweetest scene in existence. You'll know which one. I wish this for each of you.

That Monday at school is probably one of the best days of Peter’s life. The entire school is singing his praises. Not that they know it’s him, but they are all worshipping Spider-Man. Peter cannot stop smiling for the life of him. He may as well stick a sign to his back that says “I AM SPIDER-MAN”. He guesses he has Flash to thank for his cover. No one would ever expect ol’ Penis Parker to be a superhero. Which is why he feels pretty confident about ducking out of school later to finally catch the vulture guy in the act.

On top of this, things between him and Ned are better than ever. He really is beginning to consider that there might be some truth to May’s suspicions. He keeps remembering what it’d felt like to kiss Ned in that elevator shaft. With his new senses, it’s like experiencing it in near identical clarity every time. The only thing Peter regrets is not just going for it and kissing him for real. He knows why he didn’t: there was still that nagging doubt that Ned might just have been in as much shock as him and that the kiss hadn’t meant to Ned what it means to Peter. Peter doesn’t feel put off by this, though. He and Ned had been texting and calling back and forth all weekend. The only reason they hadn’t just hung out is because Ned’s parents and May had each wanted their sons to themselves after what’d happened. Peter can’t blame them.

It’s only after first period that Ned finds him in the halls.

“Dude! Dude, dude, dude!” Ned stage whispers, jogging closer. “What is it like being famous when no one knows it’s you?”

“Crazy, dude,” Peter says, smiling all over again.

“Crazy!” Ned agrees. “Should we tell everyone?”

Peter frowns, shaking his head insistently. “No.”

“Should I tell everyone?” Ned tries again.

“No, dude. No, that’s not a good idea,” Peter says. Ned is messing with him. Dork.

“Okay. Well, we gotta get to class,” he says, backing up towards history, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’m not going to class,” Peter says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction.

“But you’re already in so much trouble for ditching the decathlon…”

“Dude, listen. I figured it out, right. The wing-suit guy is stealing from damage control. What he takes from damage control – that’s how he builds the weapons. So, all I gotta do is catch him,” Peter explains.

Ned is giving him a blank, but unrelenting look. Peter is frustrated.

“But we have a Spanish quiz,” Ned says, feebly.

“Ned, I’m probably never gonna come back here,” Peter says, his hands on Ned’s wrists. Ned doesn’t move them. Peter feels warm again, his chest expanding on the inside. “Mr. Stark is moving the avengers upstate. So, when I bring this guy in…”

“Dude, you wanna be a high school dropout?” Ned says.

Peter backs up, headed for the front door. “I am so far beyond high school right now.” With a last look at Ned, he turns…

…and walks right into the principal.

“Parker,” he says. “My office.”

What it comes down to is detention for the rest of his natural-born life. Ned doesn’t say “I told you so” or anything else remotely smug when he sees Peter at lunch later that day. He doesn’t even ask. Peter just feels deflated and annoyed. Ned holds his hand under the table. It makes him feel a little better. Michelle also sits with them. She and Ned talk animatedly. Peter just listens, but it seems like she’s really good for Ned. It makes Peter happy.

That morning, during his free period, in detention, though, she’s there, too. She’s drawing in a notebook when he sits down and doesn’t offer even a morsel of conversation. Not that he wants to talk much, but he is curious about the story with her and Ned.

Coach Wilson is on detention duty and he plays them the government-issued Captain American detention video. It brings tears to Peter’s eyes, he’s so frustrated. Another five seconds in and Peter is out of there so fast he almost knocks Michelle’s notebook off her desk. Down the hall, he makes sure the coast is clear before he lifts a row of lockers and takes out a spare bottle of web fluid.

He only just manages to make his usual bus home. He’s kind of tense, because when you’re in this much trouble, every pair of eyes feels like a potential snitch. He makes it home without incident and hurries up the stairs to their apartment. His aunt should still be at work right then, but he calls for her as he goes inside, anyway, just to be sure. He finds the house, mercifully, empty, so he heads straight to his room and slips the mask on to talk to Karen, the AI Mr. Stark installed in his suit.

Peter had only met Karen on Friday, after Ned had disabled the ‘Training Wheels Protocol’. She’s pretty cool and super helpful. She’d helped him a lot during his fight against the vulture dude and she’d also helped him crack the combination on the doors to the most secure holding facility on the Eastern Seaboard. AND she’s the one who told him the glowy thing’s a bomb. A real trooper. She’s also good company. He chuckles to himself. Ned has Michelle. He has Karen.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” he says, the mask in place.

“Hey, Peter? How was your Spanish quiz?” she asks.

Peter disregards this question, because he hadn’t studied and thinks he failed.

“Listen, I was wondering if you could help me? I’m trying to figure out who the guys under the bridge were that night, but, I mean, I can only kinda remember part of a license plate,” Peter says instead.

“I can run facial recognition on the footage of that encounter?” she offers, starting the diagnostics immediately.

“Footage?”

“Yes, Peter. I record everything you see,” she informs.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Like, all the time?” Peter asks.

“It’s called the ‘Baby Monitor Protocol’,” Karen says.

Peter drops the pen he’s playing with on the floor in frustration. “Yeah. ‘Course, it is. Um…” he sighs. “Yeah, just roll it back to last Friday.”

“With pleasure,” she says.

First, she plays him footage of him getting ready for the party, acting out the Spidey introduction in the mask. Then, she plays him his impression of Thor and Peter wants to die of humiliation. He’d used May’s meat tenderizer as Mjolnir and put on the most heinous British accent. Why is he like this?

“Your impressions are _very_ funny,” she says.

“Fast-forward to the arms deal,” Peter says.

She does, showing him the three guys he saw that night. One of them, a younger guy, is buying from the other two. If Peter remembers correctly, the buyer had only wanted something to stick someone up with, but the other two had been trying to upsell him.

“Okay. The two on the right, who’re they?” Peter asks, meaning the dealers.

“Searching law enforcement databases,” Karen says. She runs the search. “No records found for two of the individuals.”

“Nothing?” Peter asks.

“One individual identified,” she says, zooming in on the buyer. “Aaron Davis, age 33. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens.”

“Let’s pay him a visit,” Peter says, getting into the rest of the suit.

“Would you like me to activate the ‘Enhanced Interrogation Protocol’?” Karen offers.

“Uuuuhh… Yeah,” Peter decides.

They track Aaron to the undercover parking of a mall a little farther into the city. He’s walking to his car with a plastic shopping bag. Peter follows his little drone down there, dropping lightly to the ground. As Davis opens the trunk of his car, Peter webs his hand to the hatch.

“Remember me?” he says, his voice made deeper and louder by the suit’s interrogation thing. “Yeah, I need information and you’re gonna give it to me now.”

“A-alright. Chill,” Davis says, motioning with his hand at Peter.

“C’mon!” Peter demands. Why does it have to be so loud?

“What happened to your voice?” Davis wants to know.

“What do mean, what happened to my voice?”

“I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like,” he says.

Peter could web him in the face. “I’m not a girl! I’m a boy! I mean, a man. I’m a man!”

“I don’t care what you are. Boy… Girl…” Davis goes back to digging in his trunk.

“I’m not a girl!” Peter protests again. “I’m a man! C’mon, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names, or else.”

Davis slams his trunk shut, making Peter jump.

“You ain’t never done this before, huh?” he says.

Peter’s drone whirrs in high-pitched distress. He looks at it warily and then back at Davis.

“Deactivate interrogation mode,” Peter says to Karen. The drone goes back to its perch in the center of Peter’s chest. “Look, man. These guys are selling weapons that are _crazy_ dangerous. They can’t just be out on the streets! Look, if one of them could just cut Delmar’s bodega in half–”

“Woah, Delmar’s?” Davis interrupts.

“Yeah. The best sandwich in Queens,” Peter says.

“Sub Haven’s pretty good.”

“Too much bread.”

“I like bread.”

“C’mon, man. Please?” Peter pleads.

But Davis just looks at him, pursing his lips. So, Peter gives up, turning to go.

“Stupid interrogation mode, Karen. Don’t ever do that again…”

“The other night you told that dude if you’re gonna shoot somebody, shoot me. That’s pretty ballsy,” Davis assesses.

Peter turns back around, going closer hopefully.

“I don’t want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here,” Davis says.

“Who are these guys?” Peter tries a last time. “What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?”

“Other than he’s a psychopath dressed like a demon? Nothing. I don’t know who he is or where he is.”

Peter leans back against the car, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. The way things are going now, he may as well have just stayed in detention.

“I do know where he’s gonna be,” Davis drops, at last.

Peter looks up so quick that, were it not for his Spidey powers, he would’ve gotten a crick in his neck.

“Really?”

“Yeeeaahhh… This crazy dude I used to work with, he’s… He’s supposed to be doing a deal with him.”

Peter outright dances in happiness.

“Ey, ey, ey. Ey!” Davis breaks into his mood. “I didn’t tell you where. You don’t have a location.”

“Right. Of course. Yeah. My bad. Silly. Just…yeah.” Peter goes back to the car, looking at Davis intently. “Where is it?”

“Can I give you some advice?” Davis says.

“Mm?”

“You gotta get better at this part of the job,” he says, meaning the interrogation.

“I don’t understand. I’m intimidating,” Peter says, leaning back against the car, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“Staten Island ferry. Eleven.”

“Woah. That’s soon!” Peter notes. He points at his webs on the guy’s hand. “Hey, that’s gonna dissolve in two hours.” He backs up, breaking into a run.

“No, no, no. Come fix this!”

“Two hours! You deserve that!”

“I got ice-cream…”

“You’re a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!”

Peter sprints, then, and shoots a string of webs at the ceiling and swings his way out of there. Staten Island is quite a ways away, but he’s fast enough to make the ferry, if only just. He has to activate the wings and they only carry him to the side of the boat. Thankfully, he is sticky. He peeks in the window there.

“Okay, Karen. Activate enhanced reconnaissance mode,” he says.

“Sure thing,” she says.

He listens to the one guy who tried to kill him and some other guy talk about where the deal is going down. Karen can’t find the other guy in her criminal database. Peter activates his drone and sends it after the killer-dude, also screening a call from Aunt May.

He climbs to the top of the ferry and heads to the spot of the deal. There, he looks down on several strangers. One of them has an extensive criminal record, including homicide. Karen offers her favorite solution – instant-kill – to which Peter says a resounding no. He’s not a killer.

The killer-guy says the weapons are in a white pickup truck, so Peter has his drone scan for that. It finds the truck near the other side of the ferry. Peter sends it to scan the weapons for energy signatures. The readings are off the charts.

“Oh, this is too perfect,” Peter says. “They got the weapons, the buyers and the sellers all in one place.”

“Incoming call from: Tony Stark,” Karen notifies him.

“No, n-no, no, no. Don’t answer!”

But it’s too late.

“Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark says. “Got a sec?”

“Uuuuuhhh. Ah… I’m actually at school?” Peter tries.

“No, you’re not,” Karen says.

_Shut up, Karen!_

“Nice work in D.C. My dad never really gave me a lot of support and I’m just, uh, trying to break the cycle of shame,” Mr. Stark says.

“Uh, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now?” Peter tries again.

“Don’t cut me off when I’m complimenting you. Anyway, great things are about to happe–” The foghorn cuts him off this time. “What is that?”

“Uh, I’m at band…practice…”

“That’s odd. Happy told me you quite band six weeks ago,” Mr. Stark says. “What’s up?”

“I gotta go! End call!” Peter cries, seeing the deal go down below him. He webs the keys of the pickup out of the guy’s hand. “I’ll take those!”

He flings himself down amongst them. Dangling the keys at them, he says, “Hey, guys! The illegal weapons deal ferry was at 10:30. You missed it!” He webs two guys at once, pulling them off their feet and towards the cars behind him. Then, he throws himself at another guy, kicking him clean off his feet and off the boat, but then webs the guy and yanks him into the edge of the platform, winding him. Peter dodges one of the alien weapons. It goes over his head and into the mesh gate. Peter webs it into the trellis. Fleetingly, he sees it’s one of those electrocution glove things the other guy under the bridge wore that night.

The other guys try to get away, but he flings them forward and into the side of the holding area – with a motorcycle. “Woah, woah, woah. Not so fast!” Then, he sees the bike and backpedals a little. “Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard.”

In front of him, the guy with the glove thing is trying to pull free. Peter had heard the dealers call him in, which means the vulture-guy was coming for him. Perfect.

“I gotta say, the other guy was way better with that thing,” Peter says to the guy with the glove, changing out his web cartridges. “I’m honestly… I’m-I’m shocked.” His drone comes back to its perch, too. He casually shoots a web grenade, which catches an oncoming assailant off-guard and sticks him to a car.

The other guy from before pitches up and Peter just knows he’s the vulture. Peter is about to go after him – when the FBI shows up. They try to take Peter down, too, but he tries to point them at the Vulture. It’s too late, though, because the winged man just flies over them all, firing one of those alien gun things at the officers. Thankfully, they all dive out of the way.

Everything goes south, then. The Vulture gets away, the FBI are useless, and the ferry gets cleaved in half by the alien gun thing. Peter immediately has Karen do a scan for all the ferry’s strongest points and he tries to connect them all with his webs, praying it’s enough, but really knowing it won’t be. This is so bad. What has he done? These people could die!

At this point, he’s literally trying to keep the boat together with his strength and will alone. It shocks him out of his mind when this actually seems to work. But it can’t be working. Things like this don’t happen. How is he being lowered to the deck?

“What the hell?” he says, looking around for some kind of explanation. Maybe they fetched up against some high rocks underwater?

No such luck.

“Hi, Spider- _Man_ ,” comes the one voice he does not want to hear right now. “Band practice, was it?”

Outside, Mr. Stark – or, really, Iron Man – is pushing the one half of the ferry to the other. A deployment of small rockets attaches themselves to the sides and helps push, too. When the two halves are together, Iron-Man takes off and Peter follows. He welds the two halves together, Peter swinging along behind him.

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter calls after the older man. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Can I do anything? What do you want me to do?”

Iron Man hovers on eyelevel with Peter and says, “I think you’ve done _enough_.”

All the anxiety and fear leave Peter, then. He hoists himself up into the crow’s nest and watches as the older man makes the rest of the repairs. Around them, various rescue boats have shown up. After a while, Peter grabs a ride with one of them back to the mainland. He feels like garbage. He _smells_ like garbage. How had this all gone so horribly wrong? He had it under control! What the hell were the feds doing there?

Iron Man finds Peter on the roof of the marina building, where he’s watching the rescue missions take place in case they need any help. He looks up as the great hunk of metal comes to hover close to him.

“Previously on _Peter Screws the Pooch_ , I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion dollar suit, so you could sneak around behind my back, doing the one thing I told you not to do.” Mr. Stark is angry.

Peter is tired and miserable. “Is everyone okay?”

“No thanks to you.”

Now, Peter’s angry.

“No thanks to me?” he gets up, grabbing his mask. “Those weapons are out there, and I tried to tell you about it, but you didn’t _listen_. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just _listened to me!_ ” Peter doesn’t even know why he’s trying. Mr. Stark isn’t here. He’s just sent his suit all comfy to come save the day, while he’s off, god-knows-where, living the damn high life! “If you even cared, you’d actually be here.”

Iron Man lowers to ground level and the suit opens up.

 _Great_ , Peter thinks, eyes wide.

“I did listen, kid,” Mr. Stark says, stepping out. “Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was _crazy_ to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid…”

“I’m fifteen,” Peter interjects for no reason other than to keep himself from crying.

“No, this is where you zip it! Alright, the adult is talking! What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? ‘Cause that’s on you. And if you died… I feel like that’s on me,” the older man says, looking his age again, like that night in the car after Berlin. “I don’t need that on my conscience.”

“Yes, sir. I…”

““Yes”,” Mr. Stark says, trying to end the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Peter keeps babbling.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Mr. Stark says.

“I understand,” Peter keeps trying. He just needs Mr. Stark to understand. He wasn’t doing this to be a delinquent. “I just…I just wanted to be like you.”

Mr. Stark nods a little, looking off into the distance momentarily. “And I wanted you to be better.”

Peter is quiet at this, knowing he’s lost. He doesn’t even know how he isn’t crying right now. He wants to. Badly. He wants to rage and scream and cry into his pillow.

“Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back,” Mr. Stark delivers the final blow.

Peter’s head snaps up. “For how long?”

“Forever.”

Peter tries to protest. He tries to reason. He tries to beg and plead. Nothing. No avail. Mr. Stark’s made up his mind.

“Let’s have it,” he says.

“Please? _Please?_ This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit!”

The older man stares at him with an intensity Peter has never experienced before.

“If you’re nothing without this suit,” he says, “then you shouldn’t have it. Okay? God, I sound like my dad.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Peter tries feebly, one last time.

“Okay. We’ll sort that out,” Mr. Stark says.

This is how Peter ends up doing the walk of shame home in _Hello Kitty_ pajama-bottoms, flipflops that are miles too big and a NYC novelty shirt. He hates every single aspect of his life by the time he knocks on the door of their apartment. May opens the it, her eyes terrified behind her glasses. Peter’s heart starts hammering in his chest as he closes the door behind him. May is fretting all the way into the lounge.

“I’ve been calling you all day,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word, “but you didn’t answer your phone. You can’t do that. I’ve called five police stations. Five. I called five of your friends. I called Ned’s mother. I…”

“I’m fine. May, I’m okay. Honestly, just relax. I’m fine.” He’s made his way into the lounge by then. It’s all he can do to keep the tears at bay at this point. He’s never seen her this worried in his life – and for what?

She turns on him. “Cut the bullshit. I know you left detention. I know you left the hotel room in Washington. I know you sneak out of this house every night. That’s not fine.”

Peter loses it, then. He’s tired and burnt out. No more. The tears just come now.

“Peter, you have to tell me what’s going on!” May insists.

 _I know_ , he thinks. _I wish I could_.

“Just lay it out,” she says. “It’s just me and you.”

“I lost the Stark Internship,” Peter blurts, thickly.

“What?”

“...Yeah.”

“What happened?” May wants to know, hands on her hips.

“I just thought I could work really hard and he could– he would…you know? But…I screwed it up,” Peter says. It’s not the truth. It’s a version of it, though, and getting it out to May – who loves him no matter what – is such a relief that Peter’s tears dry up.

He’s sunk down at the table. May comes over to pull him to her. He rests his head against her stomach, letting her rub his back comfortingly. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” Peter says in monotone to keep his voice from cracking.

“You know, I’m not trying to ruin your life,” she says.

“Yeah. I know,” Peter chuckles, feeling like he ruins his own life just fine, thanks.

“It’s just… I used to sneak out, too…” she trails off, ruffling his hair. Then, she’s leaning forward, finally catching onto his trash vibe. If he sets himself on fire, would he officially transcend into memedom? “Go take a shower. You smell…you smell like… You smell like _garbage_.”

“I know.”

 

He calls Ned after his shower, needing to talk to someone. Ned answers, crying. Peter gets a sudden whiff of burning garbage.

“YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE!” Ned yells. “I had to lie to my mom. I’ve been worried sick. I thought you were dead, you dipshit. DEAD! You can’t do that to me. You c–”

“I love you,” Peter says before he can stop himself.

The line goes entirely soundless. He can’t even hear Ned breathing. Peter doesn’t care that he went too far again. He _is_ an absolute dipshit. He can’t even remotely believe he thought he needed to be Spider-Man to be somebody. Maybe he concussed himself harder than Karen thought, back in D.C. Ungrateful, is what he was.

“Ned?” Peter says, when the few seconds of silence stretch into two minutes.

“…Yeah?” he breathes.

“Did you hear me? I said I l–”

“I love you, too,” Ned cuts him off.

Peter smiles.

“See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” Ned says.

 

At school the next day, Ned is waiting for him out front with coffee and bagels. Peter knows he had to get his mom to leave earlier for this, so he walks right up to Ned and throws his arms around him. Ned hugs him back – coffee, bagels, and all. Peter wants to kiss him, but school might not be the most romantic place for that. So, he just takes the food from Ned and splits it between the two of them.

“So, how much trouble am I in?” Peter asks, munching on his bagel and making his way inside.

“You’re technically supposed to report to the principal first thing,” Ned relays, “but you can finish your bagel first.”

“Come with me?” Peter asks, quietly.

“Literally, duh.”

Peter smiles at his bagel.

“Peter, you’re a good kid, and you’re a smart kid. Just try to keep your head straight, okay?” the principal finishes later.

Peter nods tiredly.

He’s let go.

“Are you expelled?” Ned asks, as soon as he steps back out into the hall. “Do you have to go that high school on 46th where the principal has a crossbow?”

“Pretty sure that’s an urban myth, and, no, I’m not expelled,” Peter says.

“You’re so lucky,” Ned says.

Peter takes his hand as they walk. Ned smiles to himself.

 

A week later, Peter hasn’t gone out as Spidey once. It only aches when he thinks about it, so he tries to keep busy. He and Ned are finally finishing the Death Star in the band room after school. Ned lets him add Vader, which makes Peter happy. Ned smiles at him.

He’s been doing that a lot lately – smiling at Peter. Peter LIVES for it. He did it so much at Peter’s house last weekend that May pulled Peter aside to ask what the story is. Peter had shrugged, but smiled knowingly. Her eyes had sparkled in response.

“So, how have you been?” Ned asks, into the quiet. “Without the suit, I mean?”

It’s hard, but Peter tries to think about it. The short answer is that he’s been great, but a little hollow. He doesn’t know if Ned will understand that, though.

“Fine,” Peter answers. “How’s your app doing?”

“Great! Over five billion downloads by last night. Maybe I should sell it…”

They talk about the pros and cons of this a while. Outside, the school is empty. May knows where he is, and no one is going to bother them in here. Things have never been more perfect.

He should take his chance now, but Ned abruptly stops talking.

“Ned, do you like me?” Peter almost whispers into the sudden, loaded quiet. They’re sitting right next to each other, Peter’s left leg pressed to Ned’s right. When Peter turns to him, their faces are about two inches apart. All the hair on Peter’s body – save for his head – stands on-end.

“Sure,” Ned responds.

Peter sighs, knowing he asked a vague question, but only because he wanted to be cool about it.

“Do you, um…” Ned coughs once. “Do you like Liz?”

Peter snorts, almost choking to boot. Ned frowns.

“Ned, Liz looks at me like she wants to eat me alive. I am nowhere near ready for whatever she wants – and I have never been into her. Not once. She just makes me feel…”

“Like a deer caught on headlights?” Ned supplies.

“Exactly,” Peter says, leaning inconspicuously closer. “So, do you like me?”

Ned nods slowly, their faces less than an inch apart.

“So, I can kiss you, then? That’d be okay?” asks Peter, not really waiting for an answer.

Ned is hesitant, but Peter isn’t. He still goes slow, savoring every detail about this moment for later. Ned’s mouth is so soft and warm. He tastes like chocolate M&Ms. Peter wants to kiss him harder – just a little – but Ned is shaking already. So, instead, Peter brings his hand up to cup Ned’s cheek. That’s when Ned comes in a little more, making Peter’s head spin. He sucks in a breath through his nose, brings his other hand up, too, and kisses Ned again. It’s even better the second time. His stomach does several backflips and his heart shudders in his chest when Ned puts a hand to his side. Peter pulls away abruptly.

Ned takes his hand back immediately.

“No! No,” Peter says. “I like it. I’m just…a dipshit.”

Ned laughs. Peter chuckles, too, leaning in again.

“Yeah, you are,” Ned says, his mouth against Peter’s.

May comes to get them from school that evening. They walk out to the car, hand-in-hand. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t stop smiling all the way home. When she does pipe up is that night, when it comes to sleeping arrangements. Peter just tells her she has nothing to worry about. He kisses her cheek and heads to bed.

In his room, he strips down to his boxers, grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head. Ned is already bundled up in the bottom bunk. Peter walks up to him and taps him lightly to get him to move over. He smiles again and makes room for Peter. They fall asleep, clinging to each other like they haven’t done since they were five.

 

The next morning comes far too quickly for Ned. He wakes up to Peter’s phone alarm. He wants to reach over to kill it, but Peter is between him and there and has managed to wrap himself entirely around Ned – sans his shirt.

 _When did he take it off?_ Ned wonders.

He lies there, hoping Peter will wake up and turn it off himself, but a minute passes and Peter doesn’t move. It’s not so bad, though. It’s a Fall Out Boy song, pretty much about him and Peter. He wonders if Peter did it on purpose, or if he’s just that cheesy. Probably the latter. The song plays itself almost all the way through before Peter’s eyes open. He smiles immediately when he sees Ned. Ned wants to kiss him again.

“Do you like the song?” Peter mumbles, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Ned is in love. “I do. Isn’t it a bit cheesy, though? Even for you?”

“It’s…the right amount of cheesy for me,” he responds, snuggling closer and clasping his hands around Ned.

“Shouldn’t we get up?” Ned asks, turning to do that.

“It’s Saturday,” Peter says.

“It’s Thursday, Peter.”

“Well, May can come get us.”

“Dude, I need to pee.”

Peter puts his face in Ned’s neck. “Wrong address, sorry.”

Ned chuckles. He feels Peter grin, too, against his skin.

“When did you take your shirt off?” Ned asks, holding Peter now.

“You took it off. Said it was too hot,” Peter says.

Ned blushes so red so quick, his vision blurs. Is Peter kidding? Please, let Peter be kidding.

“I wish I was kidding,” Peter reads his mind. “Though, technically, you just said “too hot”. So, _what exactly that was about_ , I couldn’t tell you…”

Ned is ready to bury himself in Central Park. Why the hell is he like this?

“Hey,” Peter says, pushing himself up to lean over Ned. He smiles softly. “No worries, okay? I’m flattered. We’re all good.”

Instead of being embarrassed, Ned says, “So, I can kiss you, then? That’d be okay?”

“Absolutely,” Peter says, stretching out the word.

It’s definitely better this time. Peter is more into it and less careful. Ned has his hands on Peter’s bare back. Peter’s fingers knot themselves in Ned’s hair and Ned pulls him closer, which puts Peter on top of him. Not that Ned really knows the difference, but if he had to venture a guess, he’d say their kissing stops being kissing and starts being making out after that. The more Ned touches Peter, the harder Peter kisses him. Ned can barely catch his breath – not that he’s trying very hard. At some point, Ned’s one hand finds Peter’s chest, while Peter kisses his neck. His eyes roll back in his head and his hand slips down to Peter’s stomach. Peter makes a sound low in his throat and comes up to kiss Ned again, his face looking not unlike Liz’s when she’s checking him out.

Then, the door opens.

And Peter falls off the bed.

“PETER PARKER, YOU ARE PUSHING MY BUTTONS. _WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES?_ ” May yells.

Ned is blushing again. Peter is making up some half-assed story that May isn’t even listening to. She tells them breakfast is ready and that they’re leaving for school in half an hour, or they take the bus.

They’re shat on from a dizzy height the whole drive in. May says she hasn’t said anything to Ned’s mom, but she might if they misbehave. Peter says they’ll be better, he promises, and please let Ned be the one to tell his own mom. May gives Peter a look that says she isn’t buying it. So, Peter lays it on thick with the ‘you were rights’ and the ‘we’re just kids, what do we knows’ and the ‘we’ll listen to you from now ons’. Ned nods along every step of way, giving her his sincerest look. May smirks.

“I’m happy for you. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been rooting for this forever. But you have to take it slow, alright? Promise?” she says, pulling up.

“Promise,” the boys say in unison.

“Get out of here,” she says.

Peter leans in and kisses her on the cheek. Ned does the same.

“Love you, May,” Ned says.

“What he said,” Peter concurs.

“Love you boys, too.”

They head up the steps to the front door, but not too fast. They’re early for once, because May came to drop them on her way to work. Ned suggests going to sit on the bleachers and watching the sun come up. Peter asks him if he could be more gay. Ned responds that that isn’t likely. Peter takes his hand. They find a spot near the bottom, because Ned is scared of heights and doesn’t like climbing those things. He leans back against the one behind him and Peter lies down with his head in Ned’s lap. He takes Ned’s arm and holds it to his chest.

“Hey, can I say something random?” Ned asks.

“Most things you say are random, but go on.”

“Peter, I know you don’t like talking about it, but I want you to know it doesn’t matter to me. You don’t have to be Spider-Man for me to like you. You’ve always just been Peter to me,” Ned says.

Peter kisses his fingers. “Thank you, Ned. I just feel so stupid for screwing things up so bad. I should’ve just listened to you. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“First, I love you,” Ned says, lifts Peter’s hand to his face and kisses it, too. “Second, I don’t think you screwed up that bad. Tony Stark was way out of line to recruit you in the first place. This is his fault. He’s mad at himself and he took it out on you. You don’t need to beat yourself up anymore. I mean, you never needed to, but it’s kind of your thing where you shoulder problems that a–”

Peter kisses him. Long and deep. Ned smiles halfway through.

“I love you, too,” Peter says, his eyes steady on Ned’s when they pull apart.

“Are you two losers going to suck face all day or are we going to class?” a voice calls from the end of the bleachers. Michelle, as they live and breathe, looking for once as if she actually woke up on the right side of the bed.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Ned calls back.

“Yes. Why, do you want some?”

Ned pulls Peter along behind him. “I don’t know, I always saw Peter as more of the eyeliner type.”

Peter looks scared. Ned and Michelle laugh.

They all walk inside to their lockers, linked at the elbows with Ned in the middle. Michelle says she likes Peter’s sneakers and Peter blurts out that she looks pretty today. She blushes and thanks him. Ned nudges him lightly in the ribs and when he looks up, he thanks Peters soundlessly. Peter smiles to himself. They split up to get their books and then Peter walks back to kiss Ned goodbye for first period, because he has physics, and Ned and Michelle have coding. Michelle taps Ned on the shoulder and he pulls away, just in time for Flash to walk by and see nothing out of the ordinary.

“Thanks, MJ,” Peter says.

““MJ”,” she says. “I like it.”

“It suits you,” Ned decides.

They head to class. Michelle links arms with Ned again and puts her head on his shoulder. She smells like flowers.

“So, are you and Peter official? I mean, obviously you are, because you’re kissing and everything, but do your parents know yet?” she asks.

“Peter’s Aunt May knows. She’s super happy for us. I guess I’m telling my mom tonight,” Ned says, resting his head on top of hers. Her curls tickle him.

“You two going to homecoming together?”

Ned actually stops at that. He hadn’t thought about it. He voices this.

“I bet neither has he. Maybe it can be your first date?” Michelle suggests, pulling him on to class.

“Dates,” Ned says, testing out the word. What qualifies as a date, anyway? He’d think them building the Death Star together and having their first kiss in the band room counts as a date. He asks MJ.

“I mean, it sounds romantic enough. I just feel like dates have this little something extra. Homecoming is suits and corsages and dancing and… well, maybe not _that_ …”

“MJ!”

“I said not that! Not for you. Not for anybody; though the seniors do call it First Semester Conquest Night,” she says.

They take their seats next to each other.

“Michelle,” Flash says suggestively, appearing at her elbow. He’s taking her in appreciatively. She visibly shudders.

“Eat shit, Flash,” she says, giving him her most withering stare to date.

He appears to shrink before he says, “You know, this is why even Penis Parker isn’t into you. You don’t have to be such a b–”

Ned kicks him in the shin, hard.

“Ow!” he cries, pulling his leg up to him.

MJ takes her chance and kicks his other leg out from under him. “I said: “Eat shit, Flash”.”

He picks himself up and goes sullenly to his seat.

“I’ve decided I like MJ better,” Michelle says. “She’s a badass.”

“You’re a badass, MJ,” Ned says to her.

She beams at him.

 

It’s detention time when Peter runs into her in the hallway. Liz. He’s coming from the bathroom and she seems to be going to it. They stop and stare at each other, her face automatically changing to look like she’d rip him limb from limb right there in the hallway. Peter swallows.

“Hey,” he says to break the tension.

“Hi.”

“I, uh, thought you had calculus fifth period…” he says, sort of as a question of why she’s on this side of the building.

“Yeah… Was just doing some homecoming stuff,” she says, throwing her arms out apathetically.

“Hey, look, I, uh…” he trails off, walking closer so they’re not yelling at each other across the hallway. They somehow meet at the trophy case. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole decathlon thing. I really…”

“It’s fine,” Liz stops him. “Last week, decathlon was the most important thing, but then I almost died.”

“N-no! I…” Peter stammers. “I just mean that it was not cool, especially because…” he needs to word this right. He needs to, because she’s giving him those expectant eyes again and he just wants to run and hide behind Ned. He pushes on, not looking at her, “…it meant so much to you…and you let me back on the team when you did… I let you down.”

“I know,” she says.

He looks up, eyes wide.

“You can make it up to me?” she says, pointing at the millionth homecoming banner adorning the school. “Homecoming? You could, um, be my date?”

Peter feels like the Hulk is standing on his stomach. He’s going to puke on her sneakers. He can feel it.

But then he thinks of homecoming. Suits and corsages and dancing, and all he sees is Ned laughing and smiling and the two of them sneaking away to make out somewhere, like it’s meant to be. Maybe spending the night at Ned’s place, playing video games and eating his dad’s hot fudge sundaes. Suddenly, he doesn’t care who knows. If Flash gives him or Ned hell, Peter’ll kick the crap out of him. Spider-Man is a secret you keep – not your love for the best person in your life.

“I have a…” Peter’s voice shakes, but he pushes on, “…a boyfriend.”

Liz looks like she’s never seen Peter before in her life. “You’re _gay_?”

“Bi,” Peter says, almost instantly. “Ned and I are together. As of yesterday, actually.”

“See, I always thought Flash was full of it,” she says, all the intensity suddenly out of her. For the first time since meeting her, Peter actually feels like he can breathe in her vicinity. It’s amazing.

“He’s Flash – he’s definitely full of it. He just happens to be right about this,” Peter concedes. An idea comes to him, then. It’s either brilliant or utterly insane. He decides just to go for it. “You know who needs a date? MJ… Michelle. As far as I know, she isn’t even going, but if you asked her, I’m sure she’d say yes. You could go as friends and match colors and everything.”

Liz looks down at her shoes, like she’s actually considering it. She’s smiling when she looks at Peter again.

“I’ll ask her,” she says.

“I won’t say anything. I’ll let her be entirely surprised,” he promises.

“You’re a sweet boy, Peter. Ned is lucky to have you.”

Peter shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m the lucky one.”

 

So, that afternoon after school, Peter is burning to ask Ned to the dance. He keeps trying to figure out how to do it. Would Ned even want to go? They don’t usually go to school dances. It’s not their thing. They’re more the “we ditch the school events to trash talk them by ourselves” type. Is he delusional even considering this?

“Hey, Peter?” Ned says, then, handing him a sandwich. They’re at Ned’s house. Peter is here for moral support. Ned is telling his parents about the two of them tonight.

“Hm?” Peter says, looking up at him tiredly. All this angst is exhausting. Being a teenager is overrated.

“Do you wanna do homecoming this year?”

Peter’s plate clatters on the counter. Ned looks terrified.

“Woah, sorry. I didn’t mean for that to look so ominous,” Peter says, gesturing at his plate. Ned doesn’t relax. “Do you mean, do I want to be your date? Because _yes_. I would be honored.”

“Okay,” Ned says, looking relieved as hell. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Love you.”

Turns out, Ned’s parents are only shocked they’re making the announcement now. His dad thought they’d been together for ages now. Peter hugs Ned, then, and kisses the side of his head. Ned also tells his mom how he and Peter are planning to hit homecoming this year. This was the worst idea Ned has ever had. They don’t get a moment to themselves until bedtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, the song Peter had his alarm set to is Fall Out Boy's "The Kids Aren't Alright".
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So, yeah - pretty cheesy.


	6. “If I can live through this, I can do anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All good things, too, must end. 
> 
> I finished it today and have no more purpose. 
> 
> See you in the funny papers xx

Homecoming night at Midtown Science and Tech comes fast and it comes furious. Peter had spent about two of the happiest weeks he’s had in a long time practicing dancing with May in the living room. He and Ned had decided to surprise each other, so they hadn’t discussed a thing and had just gone with what felt right. The most daunting part for Peter had been a suit (ironically), because Ned’s mom had taken him out shopping for a decent one. May had told him to go through Uncle Ben’s closet and see what he found there. He’d found something nice, even if it wasn’t designer. May bought him new shoes, though. He wonders if wearing sneakers with a suit is queer culture. He feels like Ned would laugh at that.

The night of the dance, they all meet at Liz’s house. Her dad is driving them all, since he hasn’t really seen Liz much that year, what with being away on business so much – and he’s leaving on another trip after he drops them. May drives him to the Allans. She can’t stop telling him how handsome he looks or how proud she is of him.

“Do you think Ned’ll like it?” Peter asks as they pull up outside the Allans’ house. He suddenly feels really shabby, being in this neighborhood.

“Ned isn’t going to know what hit him. I cannot believe how much you fill out that suit. What happened to my skinny kid?” May asks, tears in her eyes.

“I still feel skinny,” he responds, looking down at himself. Flash’s suit’ll probably fit him exactly. Armani or some shit. Spider-Man, and he can’t even afford decent clothes.

“If every single person who sees you tonight doesn’t lose their shit, then they’re all blind. Now, get out there! Your friends are waiting, and you have a boyfriend to impress,” she says exactly what he needs to make him feel better. He loves her so much. No one in this world deserves May Parker. He hugs her tightly before getting out of the car.

When he knocks on the door, corsage in hand, it’s MJ – as everyone has taken to calling her – who opens for him. She’s wearing a super pretty, vintage, yellow and white dress. Her hair is pinned up, her curls spilling out artfully. She looks stunning.

“MJ, you look beautiful,” Peter says, reverently.

She reaches up to touch her hair awkwardly, a pink corsage around her dainty wrist. “Thanks, Peter. So do you, actually. You clean up nice.”

Peter swallows twice. “You think Ned’ll like it?”

“I do,” she says. She stands aside to let him in. As he passes her, she leans in to whisper: “I, personally, think you’re about to be blown away by him, too.”

Peter almost runs into the living room at that. His new sneakers squeak slightly on the tiles. MJ, being almost a foot taller than him in her heels, keeps pace with him easily, but stays behind him. His throat runs dry and his lungs refuse to expand when he rounds the corner.

 _Ned_.

He’s wearing this white suit that looks like it was tailored for him. He looks like he should be on a yacht somewhere, sipping a martini. The white sets off skin his so dazzlingly that it looks like liquid bronze to Peter. His smile alone knocks Peter off his feet. To top it all off, Ned’s fedora has never looked sexier than tonight. Distantly, he remembers promising May he’d take it slow. That doesn’t count for homecoming, right?

“Peter, you look…” Ned says, having come to stand in front of Peter.

Peter kisses him, hard and shameless.

“Ned, you’re not being fair. We promised May we’d take it slow,” he breathes when he pulls back. “You look so hot. I feel like a walking dumpster fire.”

They kiss again, Ned’s hands on Peter’s hips. He pulls Peter to him, pulling away just enough to talk.

“I feel like I’m dating some grad student with you in that suit. Just wear it forever?” Ned says against his mouth.

“Hey, Liz?” pipes up MJ. “Maybe we should start making out. See how they like it.”

Peter looks up. “Yes. Definitely teach us that lesson. We’ve been awful. We deserve it.”

Liz throws a couch cushion at him. He laughs as he catches it. She’s wearing this super cute, hot pink minidress. The corsage on her wrist is yellow, like MJ’s dress. Peter decides against aaawwwww-ing out loud. This reminds him, though.

“I got this for you,” he says, holding the container out to Ned.

“Funny,” Ned says, jogging back to the one couch, “because I got you one, too.”

They pin their corsages to each other’s lapels, the girls giggling and whispering to each other. As they each stand back to check the other for any imperfections, Liz gives her two cents.

“Peter, I may be biased, but you look really pretty in that suit.” She looks him up and down. “I like the sneakers.”

Peter blushes.

“Are you blushing?” asks Ned.

“She called me pretty,” Peter mutters.

MJ comes over to hug him out of pity. He buries his hot face in her shoulder until he gets a grip.

“Am I allowed to take pictures yet?” Liz’s mom asks, traipsing in, camera in hand.

The next few minutes are just the four of them humoring Mrs. Allan by posing this way and that for a trillion photos. She says she’ll send Peter and Ned’s to their parents. Liz leaves to call her dad after.

“So, where’d you get the hot suit?” Ned asks, while they wait.

“It was Uncle Ben’s. May said I could have it. She, um… She had to hem the pants a bit,” he admits.

Ned smiles and replies, but what he says is lost on Peter. He’s too focused on the man following Liz into the living room to hear. He’s obviously her dad.

_The vulture guy is Liz’s dad._

Ned is pulling him along to the car, so Peter tries to snap out of it and follow him. He’s broken out in a cold sweat, though. This man tried to kill him on many occasions and now he’s Liz’s dad? This can’t be happening.

The drive to school is a riot for everyone but Peter, who is only trying not to lose his entire shit and scream his head off. Mr. Allan tries to strike up a conversation with Peter about what he’s hoping to get out of Midtown, but Peter can’t answer. He might scream and throw up at once. To make matters worse, MJ then ropes Peter into a discussion about Spider-Man and where he’s been lately. Liz tells her dad that Peter knows Spider-Man from the Stark Internship. Peter is forced to tell them he doesn’t do the Internship anymore. Mr. Allan comments that he’s sure he’s met Peter before, because his voice sounds familiar. Liz says it’s probably from decathlon or the party she threw, that Peter went AWOL on, as usual. The nail in the coffin is her adding the D.C. incident. So, Peter is terrified, but not surprised, when Mr. Allan asks to have a private word with him as they pull up at school. Liz frowns at her dad, but Peter says it’s alright. He winks at Ned.

When everyone is gone and far enough away, Mr. Allan pulls a gun out of the glove compartment. He doesn’t point it at Peter, but he makes sure Peter knows about it. A weird kind of steely calm overcomes Peter, then. It’s just a gun. He’s not afraid of guns. He can deal with guns.

“Do they know?” Mr. Allan asks, his voice menacingly low.

“Know what?” Peter says, smirking slightly.

“So, they don’t. Good. Close to the vest. I admire that,” Mr. Allan says. “I got a few secrets of my own.”

 _I bet you do, you…_ Peter doesn’t finish that train of thought, but if he did he may have had to employ a few expletives. The entire time, though, Peter keeps his gaze trained coolly on the other man. He isn’t about to be intimidated.

“Of all the people I, as a father, had to warn my daughter against…” he makes a face of pure, outrageous shock to convey his message. “Peter, _nothing_ is more important than family. You saved my daughter’s life and I could never forget something like that. So, I’m gonna give you one chance. Are you ready?”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change.

Mr. Allan goes on unperturbed. “You walk through those doors, you forget any of this happened, and don’t you ever, EVER interfere with my business again. ‘Cause if you do, I’ll kill you – and everybody you love. I’ll kill you _dead_. That’s what I’ll do to protect my family, Pete. D’you understand?”

He nods for the sake of appearances.

This gets to Peter. Not the threat on his own life, no. He never would’ve gotten into the business if he’d been afraid to die. But no one threatens his loved ones and gets away with it. No one.

That’s when he makes his decision.

“Hey,” Mr. Allan says. “I just saved your life. Now, what do you say?”

Peter forces himself to look back up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, you go on in there and you have a good time, but not _too_ good.”

Peter gets out and makes his way inside, trying to stay calm, but the adrenalin from what’s about to happen is already pounding its way through his veins. In the auditorium, all his friends are excited to see him and he wishes he could just stay and hang out with them and be normal. Tonight of all nights. He’s just gotten used to being a kid again. Along with the adrenalin, this bone-weary tiredness sets into his bones.

Ned is the most excited to see him and comes to meet him halfway to the others. Peter wonders if he should even get Ned involved in this. He can’t do it without him, though. He needs his ‘guy in the chair’. Now, more than ever.

Peter kisses him fiercely. Ned, sensing the desperation, kisses Peter back just as intensely, but pulls away quickly after.

“I need you listen to me, okay? The others can’t know, and they can’t suspect anything, so you have to be cool about it. I know it’ll be hard, but I need you now. Please?” Peter says to him.

He nods once, deliberately.

“The guy with the wings is Liz’s dad–”

“What?!”

“I know! Ned, shhh… I gotta tell Mr. Stark. Call Happy Hogan – he’s Mr. Stark’s head of security – and get a computer and track my phone for me. You get all that?”

He nods again, eyes burning into Peter’s. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I need you to hurry, okay? We gotta get him before he leaves town,” Peter says, deciding not to answer Ned’s question. He doesn’t really want to lie to him. Not anymore.

Then, he’s pulling Ned into a tight hug. Ned hugs him back. More than anything, Peter wishes he could stand there in Ned’s arms forever and someone else can go out there and deal with this problem. Never have his powers felt more like a curse.

Peter puts on an Oscar-worthy performance of stealing Ned away and out of the auditorium. MJ and Liz give them similar looks of suggestion. Peter winks at them, which makes them look at each other and laugh. Out in the hall, he and Ned kiss one last time and then go their separate ways.

Peter runs like a bat out of hell to the mobile lockers to grab his old, self-made suit, web-shooters and web fluid. He gets undressed and redressed on the fly, definitely feeling the downgrade when he pulls the old mask over his face. Mr. Stark was right – this is a glorified onesie. He’s still clipping his web-shooters on when he gets outside, but they go flying out of his hands when something big knocks him off his feet.

“He gave you a choice,” a familiar voice says. It’s the killer-dude with the shock glove thing. “You chose wrong.”

“Ah… What the hell?” Peter says, uncomprehendingly.

“What’s with the crappy costume?” the guy scoffs. He reloads the glove thing.

“My web-shooters,” Peter whispers to himself, spotting them both out of arm’s reach in different directions. He goes for the one right in front of him.

The sound of skidding rubber is all he hears before he gets thrown BY a bus INTO another bus. Without the shock-absorbency of the Stark suit, Peter feels every blow like a hammer to his bones.

“I wasn’t sure about this thing at first, but damn,” the guy says, eyeing his glove, and punches Peter full in the chest with it.

He goes flying through another bus, landing on his back near the front.

“Ugh, gross,” he says, catching sight of the underside of the seats.

Before he has a chance to get his feet under him again, the bus suddenly goes rolling sideways. Peter feels like he’s being put the through the washing machine, but with rocks. Around and around it tumbles. When it finally stops, he gets the hell out, but his legs won’t hold him. He falls on his side, groaning. He rolls onto his back. The reprieve is short-lived, as the guy comes strolling around the bus-wreckage.

“Why did he send you here?” Peter asks, dragging himself away.

“Guess you’ll never know,” the guy says, firing up the glove again.

Peter waits for the blow, sure he’s about to die, but too busted up and outmatched right now to do anything.

It never comes. He looks up and sees his webs on the glove, coming from…

“NICE SHOT!” Peter calls, jumping to his feet, reinvigorated at the edge he has now.

Ned is standing a short distance away, Peter’s web-shooter in his hands from which he fired the webs impeding the dude’s glove. Peter grabs ahold of the string, yanks the glove off the guy and then the web-shooter out of Ned’s hands and onto his wrist. Before the guy can go for his glove again, Peter webs him to the side of the bus.

He could kiss Ned! So, he does.

“What are you doing out here?” Peter asks, pulling away from a flustered, blushing Ned. Peter may have been a bit over-the-top.

“I, um, the…” he takes a deep breath and then tries again: “I hacked the city’s traffic cams and there’s one by the entrance to the bus yard. I saw him with that glove thing and how you were struggling to fight back. I don’t actually remember coming out here…”

“I _love_ you, Ned Leeds. So damn much. Have you tracked my phone yet?”

Ned gives him the location and then Peter flips out of there. He’s not going to be fast enough. His salvation comes in the form of Flash, which Peter saw coming. He lands on the hood of Flash’s car. Remembering what Mr. Allan said about his voice, he lowers it when he talks this time.

“Flash, I need your car and your phone,” he demands, standing over the other boy. He can’t lie and say it doesn’t feel a little good. Also, who is his date? She looks 25. Did his dad hire someone? Peter resists the urge, with great difficulty, to crack up.

“Uh, sir, t-technically this is my dad’s car, sir. So, I can’t really…”

“NOW, FLASH.”

He basically throws himself and the woman out of the car, scrambling to pull out his phone as he goes. Peter drops in behind the wheel, entirely out of his depth. He’s only ever driven May’s car and it isn’t nearly this fancy. How does he even turn on the headlights? Whatever. He starts the car and takes off, only crashing into the bike rack.

Peter calls Ned the moment he’s outside the school’s gates.

“Genius move leaving your phone in Liz’s dad's car, by the way,” Ned says.

“Man, I wouldn’t even have considered it without my ‘guy in the chair’,” Peter says, running a red light. He’s met with a chorus of car horns.

“Hey, where are the headlights on this thing?” Peter asks, then. “I’m in Flash’s car!”

“I’ll pull the specs,” Ned says.

“Okay. You’re on speaker phone.”

“You stole Flash’s car. Awesome!” Ned says.

Peter smirks a little.

“Yeah, it’s awesome. It’s awes–” He screams when he almost rear-ends a bus and has to go around it – onto the sidewalk. “OUT OF THE WAY! OUT OF THE WAY! MOVE! MOVE!”

“Peter, are you okay?” Ned asks.

“I’ve never really driven before! Only with May in parking lots!” Peter confesses. “This is a huge step-up.” The car careens a little, but he brings it back under control and slows down when he gets stuck behind someone. The second he sees a gap, he takes it, running an intersection. He screams again. “Hey, have you gotten through to Happy yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m working on it. I just gotta backdoor the phone system,” Ned says.

Peter speeds on, hopefully gaining on Mr. Allan. He’s getting better and better at this driving thing, all May’s instruction coming back to him in rapid pieces. Ned lets him know about the headlights and then that Mr. Allan stopped in an old industrial park in Brooklyn.

“What? That makes no sense!” Peter says, almost colliding head-on with another car, but swerving out just in time. “I thought he said he was going outta town!”

“I know. Weird…” Ned says. Then, “Oh! I reached Mr. Happy. Don’t think he likes you, by the way.”

 _You don’t know the half of it_.

“It sounded like he was catching a flight. He said something about taking off in nine minutes.”

“What?!”

“He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes.”

“Boxes? It’s moving day!” Peter remembers with a start. “He’s gonna rob that plane! I gotta stop him!”

Peter hits the gas, then. He shoots forward. Thank you, rich daddies, for buying your bratty sons sports cars. Brooklyn sneaks up on him fast.

“Okay, slow down. You’re getting close. It’s on your right,” Ned directs.

“What?”

“Turn right! Turn right!”

Peter shoots out a string of webs to a nearby lamppost and uses it to sling the car around. It hits the sidewalk and ends up on its side, skidding towards the post. Peter screams again. Thankfully, it stops just short of actually hitting anything and tips back onto its wheels.

“Peter! Are you okay?” Ned asks again.

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Just keep trying to get through to Happy.”

“It’s been an honor, Spider-Man.”

Peter’s heart clenches a little as he creeps up on the building. He reasons his best bet would be to avoid all doors and find an alternative way in. Starting with the roof, he finds a hatch that’s perfect. He lowers himself in by expelling the webs from his shooter slowly. Soundlessly, he peeks around the room. There are screens everywhere, making him think that maybe Mr. Allan has his own ‘guy in the chair’. The screens show photos of Avengers Tower and schematics of a plane. So, Peter was right. He keeps looking.

To his left, the ground drops away to a lower area. Over the railings, Peter sees them: the wings. They’re on these stilts, like they were just taken off or ready to be put on again. The rest of the room is all manner of strange and familiar technology. Branching off the one corner is a corridor. Peter goes there.

He moves lightly, quietly, but it’s just him – and then Mr. Allan. They seem to be in an undercover parking garage.

“HEY!” Peter calls.

Mr. Allan looks up from what he’s working on.

“Surprised?” Peter says.

“Oh, hey, Pete,” Mr. Allan greets him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s over. I’ve got you!”

“You know, I gotta tell you, Pete,” Mr. Allan says, getting into a leather jacket, “I really, really admire your grit. I see why Liz liked you. I do. When you first came to the house, I wasn’t sure. I thought: “Really?” But I get it now.”

_If he calls me “Pete” one more time…_

“How could you do this to her?” Peter wants to know. A dad this devout, but he’s willing to risk being put away forever or dying. How is that fair towards a kid?

“To her? I’m not doing anything to her, Pete.” That _damn_ name again. “I’m doing this FOR her.”

“Ha. Yeah,” Peter says, webbing him to the table.

He sighs. “Peter, you’re young. You don’t understand how the world works.”

“Yeah, but I understand that selling weapons to criminals is wrong,” he counters.

“How do you think your buddy, Stark, paid for that tower? Or any of his little toys? Those people, Pete, those people out there – the rich and the powerful – they do whatever they want. Guys like us, like you and me, they don’t care about us. We build their roads and we fight all their wars and everything, but they don’t care about us. We have to pick up after ‘em. We have to eat their table scraps. That’s how it is. I know you know what I’m talking about, Peter.”

Peter isn’t having it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand…and I needed a little time to get her airborne,” Mr. Allan finishes.

He pulls out a switch blade and cuts through the webbing. Out of nowhere, his wings come crashing in, going straight for Peter. He flips and kicks away and jumps over and under and away easily.

“I’m sorry, Peter!” says Mr. Allan.

“What’re you talking about? That thing hasn’t even touched me yet!” Peter hits back.

“True, but then again – it wasn’t really trying to.”

The entire building comes down on top of Peter.

 

When he comes to, it’s to the worst pain he’s been in in his life. He has at least a ton of debris on top of him and it’s crushing him into a toppled pillar. He can’t breathe and he can’t move. Pushing himself up is impossible, so he cries out for help. It’s going to pulverize him unless he can get it lifted off.

Then, some Hollywood type shit happens.

And he gets out, Mr. Stark’s words reverberating in his head.

_“If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it.”_

Peter lifts the entire building off himself. Through the now non-existent ceiling, Peter sees Mr. Allan perched on a billboard in direct line of sight of Avengers Tower. Peter gets himself up there and then hitches a ride with the bird man himself.

They hurtle through the sky, the ground dropping away fast. Peter feels bile push up his throat, but forces it back down. Not now. He has a job to do. When they get to the plane, Mr. Allan attaches himself to the undercarriage. Peter gets a precarious grip on the plane, too, but can feel himself slipping. Mr. Allan phases through the undercarriage, then – leaving his wings attached to the outside – presumably to the cargo-hold. Peter tries to web him, but, naturally, the air-currents blow his webs back. Next, they blow him back and almost off the plane. He just manages to keep his grip.

The moment he’s certain he won’t go plummeting back to the ground, he goes after Mr. Allan. First, he tries to detach the wings and trap him on the plane. A small drone type deal detaches itself, catching Peter off-guard, but it doesn’t seem to be after him. It flies off until it’s parallel with the plane. Peter keeps working on the wings, but the magnetism must be off the charts. They don’t budge, no matter how hard he pulls. He tries kicking. It works! They give little by little and then all at once. He climbs around, as fast as he can, to the door, hoping to be let in.

“Just a typical homecoming,” he says to himself, “on the outside of an invisible jet, fighting my friend’s dad.”

The Vulture comes back for him. Mr. Allan tries to slice through him with the edge of his wing, but ends up only getting the plane. Peter webs him and webs the plane, but he accidentally gets a damaged panel and the pull of engines suck him right into a turbine. Thinking fast, he shots webs straight into roters. Mr. Allan comes with him, getting messed up by the other turbine.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Peter cheers when his webs entirely clog the turbine and kill the engine altogether. It comes free from the plane and starts falling, pulling Peter with it, but Peter kicks it away and clings onto the plane.

The Vulture is relentless. All Peter can do is hold on, but this guy wants him dead now. Peter almost gets sucked in by another turbine, but gets past it, hanging on by an actual thread. Mr. Allan uses his wings to dig into the plane. Looks like he’s not leaving empty handed if he can help it.

Peter’s heart jumps into his throat when they lose enough altitude to drop below cloud cover. They’re headed straight for the city! In full panic mode now, Peter sends a thick string of webs at the one wing and pulls, trying to turn the plane enough to land in, or at least near, the water. They make Coney Island, knocking over the famed tower, and land on the beach there. On impact, the plane splits in half, sending Mr. Allan ahead with the nose and leaving Peter to vault himself off the tail. He goes tumbling, painfully.

He comes to a standstill, on his back in the sand. His ears are ringing deafeningly, which he thinks means his hearing suffered a ton of damage. He yanks the mask off, his entire body seizing in pain. Getting to his feet is a feat all its own. Only just managing, he’s about ready to go back down when Mr. Allan comes for him again. He gets thrown off his feet again, but he gets back up immediately this time, albeit slowly.

He gets hung out to dry, then. He gets the upper hand at some point, but Mr. Allan has his suit keeping him upright. Peter has taken too many hits. His energy levels are low. He doesn’t think he can hold out much longer. Not like this. Mr. Allan picks him up by his hood and is about to deliver the final blow, Peter thinks, when something else grabs his attention. He let’s Peter go. He falls into a heap, most of his face swollen and his nose bleeding.

But the fight’s not over. Not if what Mr. Allan saw is more alien tech for him to steal. Peter pushes up onto his hands and knees. Something bright catches his attention: it’s the wing suit. It’s going to explode. It’s overheating.

“Your wing suit’s going to explode!” Peter cries, webbing at the crate Mr. Allan is carrying off to ground him before he kills himself.

He turns on Peter. “Time to go home, Pete.”

“I’m trying to _save you_!” Peter screams back.

Mr. Allan cuts the webbing with his wing. He flies off.

Peter tries to send more webs after him, but his cartridge is empty. He used most of it on the jet turbine. Damnit!

Mr. Allan goes down – right in the middle of the plane wreckage. Peter stares on in horror.

“No,” he breathes, getting up. “No!”

He runs into the flames. The suit is covering most of the older man. Peter tries to pull it off him, but burns his fingers on the hot metal. He tries again, this time using some sand as a buffer against the heat. He gets Mr. Allan free, throws the thief over his shoulders and carries him back out. The two of them hit the ground side by side out of immediate danger, while the world around them smolders.

Peter only gives himself a moment. A moment to gather what he can of his strength. Then, he’s back on his feet. He stares Mr. Allan down, but says nothing. Gathering all the cargo from the ship, all miraculously still intact, piling it up on the beach and webbing everything together happens on autopilot for him. By the time the cops show up, he’s far enough away, surveying. He chuckles a little to himself when he sees Happy find Mr. Allan and his note.

“That “thoughtful” enough for ya, Happy?” Peter mutters to himself.

 

Monday morning feels like every other Monday morning, except Peter still feels like roadkill. He’d gone over to Ned’s after it all and slept under his bed all weekend. Ned covered for him and May wasn’t suspicious. Now, he’s back at school with his friends and his boyfriend and his homework – like nothing happened. It leaves him feeling hollow again, so he holds Ned’s hand a little tighter. When Flash tries to say something about the two of them, Ned – of all people – steps up to him and asks him if he’d like another ass-kicking “like that day in coding”. Flash tells him to calm down and that he’s just kidding and that he’s genuinely happy for them. Ned glares at him.

Ahead of them, coming in from the other side, is Liz with her mom. Betty runs up to her and Liz hugs her fiercely. MJ, waiting at Peter’s locker, pushes herself up from leaning and offers Liz a small smile and a wave. Liz walks right up to her and wraps her in a tight hug, too. MJ hugs her back and kisses her temple. Peter and Ned go closer. Ned let’s Peter go speak to her alone first, hanging back with MJ. She takes the hand of Ned that Peter lets go.

“Liz, I’m so sorry,” Peter says, his voice cracking a little at her tears.

“You say that a lot. What’re you sorry for this time?”

“Y-your dad. I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Peter says. He reaches out and takes her hand. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“I guess we’re moving to Oregon,” she says, not looking at him, but not letting go of his hand, either. “Mom says it’s nice there, so…that’s cool… Anyways, Dad doesn’t want us here during the trial.”

“Liz, I…” Peter doesn’t even know what he feels like apologizing for this time. He’s sorry that her dad let her down the way he did. He’s sorry for being her friend and also being the one who caught him. He’s sorry someone as sweet and great as her has to go through something like this.

“Bye, Peter,” she says. She looks at him, then. Using their clasped hands, she pulls him to her and wraps him in a hug. At his ear, she says, “Whatever’s going on with you, I hope you figure it out.”

Then, she’s gone. Where her body was pressed against his feels suddenly cold.

 

The rest of the day passes in a haze. Peter sleeps through two classes and lunch. Ned lets him use him for a pillow, playing with Peter’s hair when he wakes up, heart racing, from a nightmare. MJ and Ned talk in hushed voices, so they don’t wake Peter. At some point, Ned really has to go to the bathroom, so Peter rests his head on his arms and MJ takes over playing with his hair. He smiles to himself when her cool fingers sooth his feverish skin.

Decathlon practice feels wrong without Liz, but everyone tries to stay upbeat. Flash is even a decent human-being for once and keeps his trap shut. Peter was actually looking forward to seeing Ned kick his ass. There’s always tomorrow, right?

“Congratulations, decathlon national champions!” Mr. Harrington says, bringing the trophy out of the case to the table. They’re meeting in the library today.

Everyone applauds. Peter smiles at all of them, because they deserve it. He doesn’t even know how he’s still allowed on the team. He doesn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m gonna have to put this back in the trophy case soon, but just for motivation right now, this practice…” Mr. Harrington says. “I’m a little ahead of the game, but we will need a new team captain next year. So, I’m appointing Michelle.”

Everyone claps again. She smiles and nods thanks.

“Uh, thank you! M-my friends call me MJ,” she says.

“I thought you didn’t have any friends,” Ned pokes.

“We’re friends,” she pokes back.

“We are?”

“If you want.”

Ned hugs her one-armed.

Peter’s phone vibrates. The screen is cracked to hell, but it’s still functional, somehow. Ned saved it.

It’s a text message from an unknown number: “Go to the bathroom.”

“I, uh, I gotta go,” Peter says, grabbing his bag.

“Hey, where you going?” MJ asks, frowning at him.

Not used to getting this, he sort of just points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“What’re you hiding, Peter?” she presses.

His left leg starts to shake.

“I’m just kidding. I don’t care. Bye,” she says, her face breaking into a smile.

Ned winks at him as he leaves.

He finds Happy, real clandestine, in the bathroom. He looks different, though. Smilier than Peter has ever seen him. Dare he say it: _happier_.

“Hey, Happy,” he says. “What, uh… What’re you doing here?”

“I really owe you one,” he says. “I don’t know what I would do without this job. I mean, before I met Tony–”

A flushing toilet stops him, midsentence. An awkward minute passes of this kid coming out and washing his hands and staring at them weirdly every few seconds. Happy gives the back of the kid’s head one of the exasperated looks he used to pepper Peter with. The kid finally leaves. Peter looks at Happy again, nervously.

“So, uh, how long you been here?”

“Long enough to be awkward,” he admits. “Boss wants to see ya.”

“ _Is he here, too_?” Peter mouths, pointing at the stalls.

“In the toilet? No, he’s upstate,” Happy says.

““Upstate”. Like, _upstate_ upstate?” Peter asks, following Happy out.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Peter leaves with Happy, no questions asked. Happy’s a good dude, though, and signs Peter out first. Above board, and all that. Peter sends a hurried text to Ned when they get to the car. The drive isn’t unpleasant and Happy actually makes conversation, asking mostly about the Vulture. Peter tells him all he remembers, even adding that he indeed had Ned try to contact Happy that night.

“He hacked through Tony’s encryption. Who is he?” Happy asks.

“My boyfriend,” Peter says, proudly. “He’s a genius hacker. It’s not your fault, or Mr. Stark’s, really. Ned honestly is just that good.”

Happy nods pensively. “Cute kid,” he says finally.

Peter grins.

“Take a look,” Happy says, as they roll up to the facility. “It’s pretty impressive, huh? They just finished remodeling the whole thing.”

Peter is in awe. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this much chrome. He stares reverently at the big, signature “A” against the wall as they pass it.

While they wait for Mr. Stark, Happy lets Peter watch the one jet taking off. It genuinely is a flawless feat of engineering. Peter feels tiny.

“Don’t see that every day,” Happy says.

Peter smiles at him.

“Oh, there they are,” comes the voice of the man himself. “How was the ride out?”

“Good,” Happy answers, suddenly a little more subdued.

Peter reckons it’s just part of Tony Stark’s charm. Everyone feels like a little kid around him. Peter has new respect for Happy.

“Gimme a minute with the kid,” Mr. Stark says, looking at Happy.

“Seriously?” Happy says.

“Yeah. I gotta talk to the kid,” Mr. Stark insists.

Happy nods. “I’ll be close behind.”

“How about a loose follow, alright?” Mr. Stark suggests. “Boundaries are good.”

Then, Mr. Stark gives Peter a look he doesn’t know what to do with: he’s _proud_ of Peter. Genuinely proud. Peter’s legs go numb. He pulls Peter into a one-armed walkalong type deal.

“Sorry I took your suit,” Mr. Stark leads with.

Peter looks up at him, surprised.

“Actually, you had it coming,” he amends. “Actually, turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment you needed, right? To urge you on, right?”

Peter opens his mouth to protest how he never lacked motivation or courage, and how he almost died in the onesie from something as stupid as a building collapse.

“Wouldn’t you think?” Mr. Stark asks. “Don’t you think?” 

“…I, uh… Yes,” Peter says, at the pleading look in his eyes.

“Let’s just say it was,” Mr. Stark says.

Fine by Peter.

“Mr. Stark, I…”

“You screwed the pooch _hard_ ,” he interjects “but then you did the right thing. Took the dog to the free clinic, you raised the hybrid puppies… Alright, not my best analogy. I was wrong about you.”

 _Damn straight_.

“I think with a little more mentoring, you’d be a real asset to the team,” Mr. Stark finishes.

“T-to th-the team?” Peter stutters.

“Yeah. Anyway, there’s about fifty reporters through that door,” Mr. Stark says, pointing to an obscure one in the left corner. “Real ones, not bloggers.” He pushes something on his watch and a panel in the wall in front of Peter slides open. “When you’re ready, why don’t you try that on?”

Peter is hallucinating.

He has to be.

This suit is so _fucking sick_. Ned is going to lose his mind.

“And I’ll introduce the world to the newest official member of the avengers: Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark drops the A-word.

Peter is back to stammering. Is being cool just never meant for him ever?

“So, after the press conference, Happy will show you your room, your new quarters. Who is he between? He’s-he’s next to Vision?”

“Yeah, Vision’s not big on doors,” Happy adds.

“It’s fine,” Mr. Stark reassures.

“…or walls.”

Mr. Stark sighs. “You’ll fit right in.”

His new room? He has to live here? But he has school. And decathlon. And Ned. And May and MJ. He can’t just ditch his life. Not after fighting so hard for it this year. He can’t just drop out of being a kid to come live in this world of wars and fights and craziness. Not after what he just went through – what he’s still recovering from. It’s too much. He can’t. He doesn’t want to.

He turns back to face Mr. Stark head-on. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I’m good.”

“You’re good? How’re you good?”

“Well, I, uh… I’d rather just stay on the ground for a little while,” Peter says. ““Friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man”. Somebody’s gotta look out for the little guy, right?”

Mr. Stark takes off his glasses. “You’re turning me down? You better think about this. Look at that.” He points back at the new suit. Peter looks, worried now. “Look at me.” Peter’s head swivels around, confused. “Last chance, yes or no.”

“No,” he says, before he can change his mind.

“Okay. It’s kind of a Springsteen-y, working class hero vibe-of-the-day,” Mr. Stark decides. “Uh, Happy will take you home. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mind waiting in car? I need a minute,” Happy asks, gesturing between him and Mr. Stark.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter says.

“Yes, Mr. Parker,” he returns, shaking Peter’s hand. Peter tries not to grip too tightly, what with being nervous. “Very well.”

“See you around,” Peter says.

Mr. Stark looks a little put on, but Peter thinks he’ll get over it.

It’s only as he’s headed to the car, like Happy said, that it dawns on him that he may have just been played. He turns back around.

“That was a test, right? There’s, uh, nobody back there?”

“Yes, you passed,” Mr. Stark says. “Alright, skedaddle there, young buck!”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark! Thank you.” Peter jogs to the car again.

“Yeah. Thank _you_.”

 

A day later, Peter comes home from the best day of his life – in which nothing out of the ordinary happened. He’d aced a math test he hadn’t studied for, he was back to being first chair on the decathlon team and he and Ned may or may not have made out in the bathroom during lunch. Slowly, though. Very slowly. May had said slow.

“Hey, May, can you get dinner going already?” he calls, pushing his bedroom door open.

He finds a brown, paper bag on his bed.

“This belongs to you – TS” is written on it.

He basically rips the bag open.

The suit fits as well as it always has. It’s like putting his skin back on. He’s home, he’s home, he’s HOME.

Until she comes in to ask what he wants for dinner - and his heart stops.

“WHAT THE FU–”


End file.
